


The Prince of the East, And a Slave Named Fitz

by allforoneandoneforanother



Series: Slaves to Desire, But Servants of Fate [1]
Category: The Two Princes (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - King of the East Wins, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Closeted Character, Dark Amir (Two Princes Podcast), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drama & Romance, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Master/Slave, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:28:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26490421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allforoneandoneforanother/pseuds/allforoneandoneforanother
Summary: Amir is eighteen years old when he receives his first slave as a birthday present. Ever since the East won the war against the West, the royal family has been searching for the lost Queen and Prince of the West, to execute them. What happens when the two new slaves brought in for Atossa and Amir, mother and son, bare a striking resemblance to the lost royalty? And will Amir be able to keep the secret that the Prince of the West is alive under his care?
Relationships: Amir (Two Princes Podcast)/Original Male Character(s), Amir/Rupert (Two Princes Podcast)
Series: Slaves to Desire, But Servants of Fate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929691
Comments: 42
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

He wasn’t the prettiest thing Amir had ever seen, he thought, when he saw what this particular noble has brought him for his eighteenth birthday. Still, he nodded a quiet thank you to the noble, who brought in another slave for his mother. Amir noticed how the young man’s eyes never left the noble while he was walking in the other woman, and Amir inwardly tuts. They must have been family. This is why they separated the slaves in most parts of the country. They never wanted any slaves to get too attached to their kin.

Amir frowned as the noble presented the other slave to his mother. He could have sworn he had seen the woman slave’s face before, but he couldn’t place where. “What is your name?” Amir asked the young man.

The boy licked chapped lips, clearing his throat. “My name is Fitz, Your Highness,” he said with a bow.

Amir narrowed his eyes. His gut told him that the man was lying. “Are you lying to me?” he asked, voice just this side of deadly.

“No, Your Highness, on my honor,” Fitz said.

“Slaves have no honor,” Amir growled.

“M-my, my mother—” Fitz said, nodding to the woman Atossa was speaking to in quiet tones, “—She gave me the name Fitz, Your Highness. I’ve been Fitz for as long as I can remember.”

Amir hummed. “You!” he said, turning to the man’s mother.

She looked at him with wide eyes and a pale face. “Yes, Your Highness?” she asked.

“This is your son?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Highness. Fitz,” she said softly. “My pride and joy.”

Amir huffed. “Very well,” he said, dismissing his doubts for the time being.

“Is there an issue?” his father said from his throne.

“No, sir,” Amir said. “Just had a feeling. Nothing noteworthy.”

His father nodded. “Your instincts are good, Amir, but you cannot base everything you do on instinct.”

“Quite,” Amir agreed, looking the slave before him over again. “If it is all right with you, Father, I would appreciate being able to…break in my new toy.”

His father laughed as terror filled the young man’s face. “That’s my boy! Go to your room and break him in. The party isn’t until tonight, anyway.”

Amir nodded and motioned to the man. “Come,” he said simply.

The young man scrambled after him through the many hallways, looking around and seeming to make a mental map of his surroundings. “I do hope you are not looking for a chance to escape, boy,” he said, forcing the sternness into his voice like he had to do when his father was around and he was talking to any of his mother’s slaves.

“N-no Your Highness, that’s punishable by death,” Fitz replied. “I wish to learn the fastest way through the palace so that I might be able to assist you quicker.”

Amir laughed. “You lie,” he said sharply.

“In truth, Your Highness, I’m simply curious about what a palace might look like,” Fitz said softly. “I have not been in a palace since I was a baby. My mother was a chambermaid for the Queen of the West.”

Amir hummed. “Good riddance, in my opinion. The West was nothing but chivalrous parties and backstabbing diplomacy. You’re better off here than as a servant to that kingdom.”

Fitz looked surprised. “Have you ever been there? Your Highness?” he asked.

“No,” Amir said. “My father conquered the West when I was but a child, myself. Today is my eighteenth birthday.”

“Mine, as well!” Fitz said, genuine excitement in his voice as he glanced over to Amir. Amir glared at him and Fitz shrank in on himself. “My apologies, Your Highness. I have been told I am rather high-maintenance when I get excited.”

“Whoever told you that is quite right,” Amir snapped. “And just so you are aware: the two of us are nothing alike. I don’t want you drawing parallels between us just because you had the notion we shared _anything.”_

“Yes, Your Highness,” Fitz sighed.

The two of them got to double doors, which Amir pushed open with a small sigh. “This is my room. I will expect you to handle the upkeep of it every day while I go about my duties. But, for now, I require something else of you.”

Fitz quivered a little as he followed Amir into the room. “Yes, Your Highness?” he asked.

“Strip for me and get on the bed,” Amir said. “My father need not know of this. When I said ‘break-in’ he assumed a whipping of some sort. But I prefer a much more…intimate form of relief today.”

Fitz shook even more, but took off his ratty pants and shirt and got on the bed. Amir nodded and went to his nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube. “Have you ever had sex before, boy?” Amir asked.

“No, Your Highness,” Fitz whimpered.

“It can be quite a pleasurable experience,” Amir said. “I have had a few tries at it myself with one of my friends, Jamila. You will see her around the palace frequently. I expect you to treat her with the utmost respect.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Fitz said, trying to get a glimpse of the lube in Amir’s hands.

“What are you looking at?” Amir snapped.

“I don’t know what you’re holding, Your Highness,” Fitz admitted.

Amir held it up in puzzlement. “It’s lubricant. The ass cannot lubricate itself, and without lube anal sex is rather painful.”

Fitz winced. “Why would you...why would you bring that out, though?”

“Because _without it_ sex is _painful,”_ Amir said. “Keep up, boy.”

“Your Highness, forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, however…in the past, whenever a slave was used for sex, anally or otherwise, there was no lubricant involved.” Fitz stared at Amir in confusion. “Why would you waste that on me?”

Amir tried to fight back his initial reaction of disgust. Yes, slaves were lesser, but they were still people! To not use lubricant during sex was irresponsible at best, and a shoddy punishment at worst. “I don’t like my partners to scream in pain during sex,” Amir explained. “And besides, you would not scream during a whipping, would you?”

“No, Your Highness, I’ve been taught to be quiet at whippings,” Fitz said.

“Then people might suspect what we were up to should I not use lube,” Amir said.

“Oh,” Fitz said, looking down at the mattress. “That is a wise decision, Your Highness.”

“I’m well aware,” Amir said, undoing his pants and pulling down his briefs. “I will stretch you as much as I deem fit, and then I will penetrate you. I want no noise from you during this, clear? No one is to know what we are doing.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Fitz said hollowly. Already his eyes looked distant, like he was checking out of the situation. Perhaps that was for the better, Amir thought. He would hate to have his new toy whimpering and sobbing all the way through intercourse.

He put a little lube on his finger. Not a generous amount, because Fitz was right, Amir would hate to waste lube, but enough that it wouldn’t be painful for his toy. Amir stuck in his finger and Fitz shuddered, jerking up before burying his head in the bed. Amir turned his finger around and around, pushing in and up and down and all around, before he lubed another finger, and slowly, gently, stuck a second one in Fitz’s asshole.

Fitz whimpered into the duvet, but it wasn’t anywhere near loud enough for anyone to overhear. Amir himself barely heard it, and he was _listening_ for any noise coming from his toy. Amir continued moving around, stretching here and there and pushing in a little further and feeling around there, before he finally pulled his fingers out. “Remember, boy, you’re not to make a sound,” Amir warned.

He put lube on his dick and began to push in. This was different than making love to a girl he had interest in, or even what he had with Jamila. This was like a pre-warmed fleshlight. He pushed in, pulled out, pushed in, pulled out. He thought of Jamila as he played with his balls and his breaths were the only thing audible in the air. The act itself was mechanical, repetitive, but Amir’s mind kept drifting to the beautiful young women he had gotten the pleasure of fucking over the past couple years.

Before long, though, his thoughts returned to the stable boy he had caught himself staring at one too many times. His soft smile, the way his laugh rumbled like thunder over the hills, his soft hazel eyes, not unlike Fitz’s below him.

“Sydney…” Amir panted. “Sydney, oh, you feel so good…”

He knew that Fitz would never tell a soul about this if he knew what was good for him. And despite this new slave being a bit too excitable, he figured that he had enough self-preservation to keep his mouth shut. And besides, Sydney was a neutral enough name that Amir could make up a girl from the next city over he had been thinking about.

He thought about the two of them riding horses together in the late afternoon, and making love in the stable as the evening light filtered through. The way Sydney’s soft but sturdy form would feel as Amir rammed into him, the smile Sydney would give Amir when it was done, the murmuring of sweet nothings before they gave their goodbyes and went about their days.

Before long, Amir shook as he came inside Fitz. He was almost disappointed as the high left his body, but he knew that he would get to speak to Sydney tomorrow on their morning ride to keep the horses in shape. He pulled out of Fitz with a sigh. “I assume you know not to tell anyone about this, whether or not they’re my father.”

Fitz lifted a tear-stained face from the duvet and nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. Nobody needs to know.”

“Good,” Amir said with a nod. “Get dressed, I will show you to your quarters with my mother’s slaves. When I have enough of my own you may get your own bunk and not have to share with anyone who doesn’t serve me, but for now, it cannot be avoided.”

“That’s quite all right, Your Highness,” Fitz said. “Perhaps I will be able to see my mother again and assure her that you are treating me well.”

“Don’t get too attached,” Amir warned Fitz. “If she doesn’t meet the Queen’s standards she will be sold to nobility who cannot afford the cream of the crop.”

Fitz deflated some, paled a lot, and nodded. “Understood, Your Highness.” He stood on shaky legs and got dressed. By the time Fitz had gotten his pants on, Amir was standing there impatiently, looking like he had never stopped for a quickie with anyone, let alone a slave.

No sooner than Fitz had shoved on his shirt than Amir was leading him out of the room, down one flight of steps, and down the hall to a windowless room lit by lanterns, where slaves were working on whatever his mother had told them to do or were merely resting until they were called upon. “You will sleep here,” Amir said. “There is one available bunk in the back. Cecily is the one who alerts the other slaves that they are needed. If I call on you, do not be late or it will be your hide, understood?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Fitz said.

“Good. Get settled, I’m going to grab myself a bite to eat before the party begins. I don’t know where you will be stationed, ask someone around here and they should inform you where you’re needed,” Amir said. “You’re dismissed.”

And with that, he left Fitz behind in search of a snack, hoping to get some time with Sydney before the party began. He knew Sydney usually snuck into the kitchen to have a bite around this time…


	2. Chapter 2

Amir strode into the kitchen and smiled when he saw Sydney there, chatting with one of the cooks as he ate an apple. “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in!” he exclaimed with a teasing grin. “How are you Sydney?”

“I’m well, Your Highness. How has your birthday been?” Sydney asked. “I know you didn’t have time to spare to ride the horses with me this morning.”

“Oh, it’s been a bore, all talking to diplomats and nobles and accepting gifts I never would have thought to ask for,” Amir bemoaned. “Tell you what, though. I did get a slave for my birthday. That was interesting.”

“Did you?” Sydney asked, surprised. “I know most nobility get _something_ along those lines on their eighteenth birthday. Was she any pretty?”

“ _He_ wasn’t much to look at,” Amir said, leaning on the table as he grabbed an apple of his own. “Not compared to you, at any rate.”

“Y-Your Highness!” Sydney squawked, beet red. “You mustn’t flatter me so!”

“Why not? It’s my birthday, after all. And I’m the Crown Prince. I can do as I please,” Amir said with a teasing grin.

Sydney huffed and pouted in a way that had Amir’s heart skipping beats. “That doesn’t mean you _should,”_ Sydney countered, but they both knew that he didn’t mean it. “So. Male slave? I suppose that means you can’t exactly have the fun you were hoping for with a slave as a gift.”

Amir glanced around, and, seeing that none of the usual gossipers were around, said, “Actually, it can serve as an interesting experiment in order to figure out whether that side of things is appealing.”

Sydney looked a cross between surprised and intrigued. “And...is it?”

Amir gave a simple smile and put a finger to his lips. “Now, now. I couldn’t exactly try that right away, if at all. Father would have my head.”

“Of course,” Sydney said, with a slight bow. “My apologies.”

“No need to apologize to me, Sydney,” Amir said with a hand-wave. “After all, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I suppose, in a sense,” Sydney said. “As much as a servant can be friends with his master.”

“Then there is no reason to apologize to me,” Amir said. He knew that would get even the servants who _didn’t_ gossip wondering, but he didn’t care. He wanted a tender moment with Sydney, and he would make one happen no matter who was around, provided it wasn’t his father.

Amir didn’t usually self-identify as bisexual. He liked women and men, to be sure, but if he had any tendency towards LGBTQ identities, and his father knew about it, he would be disowned. It was as simple as that. So he said he was straight, and if he were caught flirting with a man he would simply say it was an experiment, he was working on his people skills, he wanted to master manipulation of both sexes, anything to get his father off his back.

But as Sydney walked out of the kitchen, and Amir caught a glimpse of Sydney’s ass, he knew. He was _definitely_ someone who swung both ways.

Before he could do anything beyond finish his snack, however, a servant ran into the room, gasping. “Prince Amir!” he said, hastily bowing. “Your father requests that you get ready for the party now.”

Amir groaned. “All right, I’ll get ready and meet him in the Great Hall.”

“Very good, Your Highness,” the servant said, walking out of the kitchen.

Amir didn’t exactly run to his room to get changed, but he wasn’t taking his time, because he knew that his father would get in a state if he weren’t in the Great Hall “fast enough.”

He put on his ornamental robes and combed his hair quickly, fluffing it up a little before rushing out of the room and hurrying to the Great Hall. His father was walking in from another door just as he slowed to a walk. “Ah! Amir! Good, you’re ready. I was hoping you might be able to entertain a few of our earlier guests.”

“The party doesn’t start for another hour, Father,” Amir said with a frown. “Who showed up early? I assumed that after everyone had given their presents, they would return home to change into more festive attire…”

“Well, some of your family wishes to say hello personally before the party begins,” his father said. “And I was hoping you could show them your new slave, as an example as to what a _proper_ present looks like.”

Amir cringed inwardly. He hated when his father tried to flaunt status symbols and force those around him to try and outdo each other just to win his favor. Still, he couldn’t exactly say no. “Very well. I will call Cecily and have her bring Fitz to me.”

“That’s not necessary,” his father said, pointing. “He appears to have just walked in.”

Amir turned to find Fitz walking in the room, eyes red-rimmed and puffy, but otherwise looking unfazed. Amir frowned. Had they separated him from his mother? Was that what had upset him? That wouldn’t do. He couldn’t have his slave crying into the wine that he would be serving to Amir and his extended family. “Boy! Come here!” he instructed.

Fitz flinched but hurried over. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“You’re to come with me to greet some of my family who have come to the party early. I expect I don’t need to tell you how to serve a party?”

“No, Your Highness, I have assisted at parties before,” Fitz said, voice cracking.

“Good,” Amir said. “Stop looking so morose. You aren’t here to express your feelings, you’re here to serve me.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Fitz said, swallowing. His eyes were dark with something that looked suspiciously like anger. “My apologies.”

“If you know what’s good for you, then _don’t_ give me any attitude, clear?” Amir asked.

“Crystal, Your Highness,” Fitz managed.

Amir nodded. “Come. I have guests to entertain.”

“You’re soft on him, Amir,” his father said. “You need to use more force if you want your instructions to stick.”

“I also don’t want him bleeding during the party, Father,” Amir reasoned. “It always tends to dampen the mood when one has to beat their slaves in front of guests.”

“Quite,” his father said, clearly displeased.

“Once the party is over, I may have a private word with him,” Amir sighed. “Would that be acceptable?”

“Make sure that private word sticks with him,” his father said.

Amir smirked in the way he knew unnerved even the stoniest of slaves as he looked at Fitz. “I will.”

Fitz swallowed, eyes darting to the ground as they walked through the halls. Amir looked at him. “What did I tell you about looking morose?” he warned.

“Sorry, Your Highness,” Fitz said, closing his eyes slowly and sighing. “I promise I’m trying.”

“I don’t care if you try, I care if you _succeed_ or not,” Amir snapped.

Fitz flinched. “Yes, I know.” He shook his head and blinked rapidly. “I’m very tired, but that’s no excuse, Your Highness.”

“No, it’s not,” Amir snapped. “So snap out of it.”

Fitz nodded and his face turned impassive. Amir rolled his eyes. It was better than morose, he supposed, and rarely, if ever, were the slaves _cheerful,_ but impassive was a less than ideal expression. It left too many questions about the slave’s motives and state of mind unanswered.

He walked into the room where his family was waiting and plastered on a fake smile as a few of his cousins came over to him and congratulated him on his eighteenth birthday. They all quieted, though, when they caught sight of Fitz behind him. “Who is this?” one of them asked.

“This is Fitz,” Amir said. “My first personal slave.”

“Oh, congratulations!” the same cousin said. She clapped her hands. “Having your first slave is a huge responsibility, but one I have no doubts you can handle! You can whip anyone into shape, whether or not you use and actual whip!”

A ripple of laughter went through the room as Fitz minutely flinched behind Amir. Amir subtly stepped on Fitz’s foot as a signal to behave. “Fitz, grab us some wine, will you?” Amir said.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Fitz said, bowing and taking his leave of the room just a little too quickly to be casual.

Amir didn’t fail to notice the questioning stares of his cousins. He rolled his eyes. “This one apparently was never separated from his mother when he was a child. A prime example of why the slaves are usually separated,” Amir explained.

Murmurs of assent followed Amir as he moved to sit down. “Enough about the slave. How have you all been doing?”

He went through the pleasantries of talking with family with a practiced attention that had taken him years to cultivate. He asked about his younger cousins’ studies, and the older ones attempts at finding the right partners, and talked to his aunts and uncles about the state of affairs in different regions of the kingdom, hearing everything he had expected to hear.

Fitz came back with the wine, and this time his face seemed more neutral. Controlled, but not unreadable. Far more acceptable. He poured Amir a glass of wine, first, and Amir took it without so much as a “thank you.” When everyone who was of legal age had wine, Fitz went and stood in the corner, awaiting new orders silently. Amir glanced at him. “Your last master trained you better than I had expected,” he said. “Lionel has always been a softie when it comes to slaves. Even softer than my father views me as treating the likes of you.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Fitz said. “Master Lionel has always had a certain way about him that lent him towards teaching. He frequently would train the more unruly children. Not that those ones listened to him much.”

“Yourself included?” Amir asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Less so myself and more the others around me,” Fitz said. “They tended to backtalk frequently.”

“How unfortunate,” Amir said, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a sip. “I imagine they didn’t grow up to be very good at their jobs.”

“No, Your Highness,” Fitz said. “Last I heard they were the cheapest slaves on the market, and Master Lionel still had difficulties selling them.”

Amir laughed. “See? He’s soft on them. Sometimes all a slave needs is a good whipping.”

“Agreed,” one of his cousins added. “They’re sub-human for a reason, after all.”

Amir sniffed a laugh and conversation continued, Fitz all but forgotten.

They moved to the Great Hall when it came time for the party to begin, and Fitz went to the kitchen to serve the rest of the guests. Amir kept an eye on where he was, though. He would hate to have to sift through the crowd for his slave when he eventually grew bored and wanted to retreat to his room.

Amir had to admit, though, the party was far more entertaining when he was intoxicated. Everything seemed far funnier and far less aggravating when he had alcohol to dull the sting of impersonal congratulations, before everyone moved on to his father to begin their boot-licking.

He was enjoying dancing with some of the prettier ladies at the party when one of the slaves stumbled and their tray fell, right on top of Amir. He was covered head to toe in champagne, which considerably soured his mood. He growled at the girl, who by now was cowering and babbling apologies. Amir took out the small flogger he kept in his robes and struck her across the face. “Stupid bitch!” he exclaimed. “Clean this up immediately! I want this mess spotless by the time I’ve returned in clean clothes. Fitz! With me!” he demanded, turning on his heel and stalking out of the now silent room.

Fitz scurried from where he had been working with a few of the ladies at the party. Once they were out of the room, Fitz risked a glance at Amir, which only served to irritate him further. “What?” he demanded.

“Did you have to strike her across the face?” Fitz asked.

“How else is she supposed to learn from her mistakes?” Amir snapped.

“She was bleeding,” Fitz said.

“You will too by the time I’m done with you, if you don’t shut up,” Amir warned.

Fitz held his hands up in surrender and closed his mouth with a click.

Amir grumbled as they got to his room. “Not enough time for a quickie, I just have to get changed,” he muttered darkly. “Fetch me some water to rinse my hair, boy. And be quick about it.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Fitz said, rushing out of the room.

Amir stripped of his robes and inspected the damage. Luckily they were the same off-yellow as the champagne, so they wouldn’t stain too badly. He brought out his next-best formal attire, a green number with gold accents. “If anything gets on these, I’ll tear the hide of whoever did it myself,” he muttered, tossing it onto the bed. He turned, still naked, when he heard Fitz enter the room. Fitz stuttered when he saw Amir completely nude, but silently passed a small bucket of water over. Amir dunked his head in it and sighed. “And I was hoping my hair might be able to last the night, too,” he lamented.

Getting dressed quickly, he turned back to Fitz. “You’re not to return to the party,” he said. “I want you cleaning my robes, and when you’re done with that, wait here. I want to play with you more tonight.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Fitz said, but his voice was soft, and almost afraid. Nothing like it had been earlier, even after Amir had struck that girl.

Amir walked out of the room with a sigh. He was beyond ready for the party to be over.


	3. Chapter 3

Amir got back to the party, relieved to see no champagne on the floor, and everyone enjoying the festivities once more. He stood at the edge of the room, just watching for a moment, before a hand brushed against his arm. “Quite the sight, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Amir agreed with a smile. “Hello, Jamila.”

Jamila smiled at him and leaned against the wall. “Long time no see, Amir.”

“If by long time you mean three days, then I agree,” Amir said with a laugh. “Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you.”

“Oh come on, Amir,” Jamila laughed. “You and I both know that I can’t stay away from you long.”

“I know,” Amir said with a soft smile as Jamila dragged him to the dance floor. “Much as I wish that sometimes, you would have my head if I didn’t see you at least once a week.”

“True,” Jamila allowed, letting Amir twirl her. “Am I still first in line for the crown?”

“You still okay with me fucking around if I see a guy I like?” Amir asked.

Jamila rolled her eyes and offered Amir a playful wink. “I know you can’t resist yourself sometimes, Amir. It’s fine by me.”

“Then yes, you are first in line for my choice of bride,” Amir said in a low voice. “Although, I think we should wait until _after_ my birthday to announce that to my parents.”

“Agreed,” Jamila said as Amir dipped her. “Lord knows that your father would throw a fit if we took away from the attention he was getting.”

“Don’t remind me,” Amir sighed.

“Come on, Amir, chin up. One day that will be you!” Jamila exclaimed.

“I’m not sure if I’d find that fun,” Amir said, rolling his eyes.

“You wouldn’t find everyone sucking up to you and doing everything you demand to get into your good graces fun?” Jamila asked disbelievingly.

“That’s what I said,” Amir replied.

“Oh, Amir,” she tutted. “Here I thought you were all grown up! You still have much to learn.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Amir asked, wrinkling his nose.

“If you can’t see the appeal of everyone licking your boots, then perhaps you’re not ready quite yet to be king,” Jamila said, putting on a false-innocent expression.

Amir stopped dancing. “Jamila, you and I both know that my father would never give up the throne short death anyway. Furthermore, just because I prefer people to be honest with their opinions on my policies does _not_ mean that I’m not ready to be king. It means I am open to improvement, and if you ask me…” he glanced behind him to make sure his father was busy. “…That is _far_ more important and telling of whether or not I should be king.” He took a step back. “I do believe that the party is winding down. I would prefer to retreat to my room—alone,” he added, when Jamila opened her mouth to speak.

He didn’t quite storm off, but he came pretty damn close. He went to his mother and murmured his excuses, heading to his room shortly thereafter. He stopped in the hallway just before he reached his room, bracing himself with a hand on the wall. He had forgotten he had ordered Fitz to clean his robes and then stay in his room. But now he wasn’t exactly in the best mood. Not only for speaking to others, but for having sex. He growled. Damn Jamila! Why did she have to act like she was in charge of him at all times?

Pushing himself up off the wall, he pushed the doors to his room open, ignoring the way Fitz jumped, and walked over to his bed, face-planting onto it. A low groan left him.

“Your Highness?” Fitz asked softly. “Are you all right?” Then, softer than the first question, “…Do you need me to leave?”

“No,” Amir said, lifting his face from the mattress. “I’m just frustrated with Jamila. I don’t think you’ve met her yet, but she’s being a royal _ass.”_

“That must be tough,” Fitz said. “In case you were wondering, your bathroom window is open to air dry your robes.”

“Yes, thank you, Fitz,” Amir said, waving a hand around to dismiss that line of conversation.

Fitz looked surprised and Amir frowned. “What?”

“Most people don’t thank me when I do what I’m assigned to do,” Fitz simply said. “Especially not more difficult tasks such as getting rid of champagne from clothing.”

“You said yourself it was a difficult task. I don’t thank you for smaller things that you should know how to do by now, but difficult tasks deserve _some_ acknowledgment,” Amir said.

“Oh. Well then…you’re welcome, Your Highness.” Fitz shifted. “Was Jamila being particularly mean?”

“No,” Amir scoffed. “You know the worst part about all this?” Before Fitz could respond, Amir continued, “She treated me the way she always treats me! That stupid little kid who’s two years younger than her so she obviously knows _everything_ and has to teach me the most basic things that I learned before _she_ did! She drives me nuts! I hate her! Like, I’ll marry her, because the sex is good and she doesn’t care if I have sex with other people, but...hell! Fuck! She’s a shitty human being and I always forget that until she opens her big mouth about trying to get to be my Queen, and I can’t stand her sometimes, you know? It’s impossibly frustrating!”

“That certainly sounds difficult, Your Highness,” Fitz said. Amir wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not.

“I just…” Amir sighed. “I want the people of the East to be honest with me. I want my advisors to tell me when something is a dumb-ass idea, not try and kiss up to me just to make sure they’re the top dog. Hell, that’s why my father thought going to war with the West was a good idea, and look where _that_ landed us!”

“With people to do all your menial labor for you, how horrible,” Fitz said, and _that_ was definitely sarcasm.

“It’s damaging the economy, because so much of the working class are left without jobs,” Amir snapped at Fitz. “But my father doesn’t _care_ about the working class, so he lets it continue! He encourages nobles to have sex with the slaves to produce more babies that they can raise captive and are less likely to fight back because that’s all they know! That’s not _good!”_

“Not good because of the economy? Or the rape?” Fitz asked.

“What?” Amir sighed, turning to Fitz.

“You spoke about two things: the economy and rape. And it didn’t sound like you were saying both things were bad,” Fitz informed him.

“I wasn’t talking about rape!” Amir exclaimed.

“You said that the nobility should have bastard children with slaves, presumably via non-consensual sex. That’s rape.”

“No, because slaves don’t have rights,” Amir said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“So you were talking about the economy when you said that was bad,” Fitz said.

“Yes!”

“You weren’t saying having children and stripping them of all their identity until they’re nothing but a slave is bad,” Fitz clarified.

“When you say it like that, it sounds horrible,” Amir said.

“Gee, I wonder why,” Fitz quipped.

“Slaves are humans, Fitz, but just barely!” Amir exclaimed.

“So we were ‘just barely’ human when we were citizens of the West, too?” Fitz asked.

Amir growled and brought out his flogger and waved it in Fitz’s face. “You’re tempting me, boy, and that’s not a good idea.”

“You’re reacting with violence when faced with a question you can’t easily rectify with your current beliefs, how sho—” Fitz was cut short when Amir struck him across the face with a flogger. “Ow!”

“That was a warning,” Amir growled. “Next time you say something like that, I’ll use one of my father’s tactics. And trust me, you will not like that.”

“Christ,” Fitz mumbled. “You people are far worse than any home I’ve served in the past.”

“I should hope so,” Amir said loftily. “We have higher standards.”

Fitz closed his eyes, but his nostrils flared. “Sometimes, it takes all my energy to not be sarcastic, I hope you realize the effort that goes into that.”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Amir said, waving his hand around. “I feel better enough for a round. Get on the bed.”

The fight seemed to leave Fitz immediately as Amir got off the bed and went to his nightstand. Fitz climbed on the bed with shaky hands. Amir lubed up as Fitz pulled down his pants to his knees and got on all fours. Amir got on the bed and said, “I have to thank you. Had you not been so insolent, I may have focused on Jamila the rest of the night, and you would have waited here for nothing.”

Fitz didn’t respond, only hung his head with his eyes squeezed shut tight. Amir pushed forward, and once again, thought about Sydney. Sydney’s pecs, his ass, his legs…his calloused hands and his soft face. Amir longed to stroke it, to hold him, to have a tender moment outside the stables. He wanted it all. He wanted to marry this man. He would choose Sydney over anyone else in the world, including Jamila.

…At least Sydney _cared_ about Amir properly.

Fitz whimpered underneath him and the illusion was ruined. Amir huffed. “Do you _have_ to do that when I’m in the middle of a fantasy?”

“I’m…trying…not to, Your Highness,” Fitz grunted between gasped breaths. “But you’re…rather…deep…”

Amir realized with a start he was close to bottoming out. He pulled out just a tad before pushing in again, and Fitz whimpered once more. “Oh, god,” Fitz breathed. “That _hurts,_ Your Highness!”

“Good,” Amir said. “Then you might consider this your punishment for being sarcastic.”

Fitz turned red and looked like he wanted nothing more than to spew curses at Amir, but he stayed silent. Amir pulled out a little further, and pushed in just before where Fitz started whimpering, and returned to his fantasy. Jamila was nice to look at, true, but Sydney was far kinder to him. He wanted that kindness, that gentle touch that Jamila lacked.

On his bed, his dick stuck in another man’s ass, it was easier to pretend that he was topping Sydney. Anal felt slightly different to vaginal, and Amir took full advantage of that for fantasy fodder. The tightness, the heat, the pleasure…it was different with a man. Not more, not less, per se, but different.

A small part of his mind reminded him that this was _Fitz,_ not Sydney, and Amir shook those thoughts away. He didn’t want to focus on that. He wanted to live in his own fantasy, just a little while longer, just until he came.

Tighter, faster, harder he pushed until the pressure in his gut spilled forward and he pulled out onto the bed. “You might just be my best birthday present to date, Fitz,” Amir sighed.

“Thank…you?” Fitz said hesitantly as he turned to look at Amir. “If I might ask, who is Sydney?”

“He works with the horses,” Amir waved off. “Speaking of, I expect you to prepare the horses with him tomorrow morning before it’s time to ride.”

“Him,” Fitz said hollowly. “You fantasize about men.”

“Yup,” Amir said, closing his eyes and resting his head on his arms on the bed. “I do like guys, that’s possible.”

“No, of course it is,” Fitz said. “I didn’t take you to be anything less than straight, though.”

“Well, my father wouldn’t allow me to be out, even if I wanted to be,” Amir sighed. “Fetch me a wet washcloth, I wish to cool down before I fall asleep.”

“Yeah,” Fitz said. “You can see guys falling in love with other guys, but not how slaves might be equals?” he muttered.

“What was that?” Amir warned.

“Nothing,” Fitz sighed. “Thinking to myself.”

“Might want to refrain from doing that out loud. My father would tan your hide,” Amir said helpfully.

“Great, thanks,” Fitz said, leaving the room and returning with a washcloth. “If there’s nothing else you need, Your Highness, I will retreat to my own quarters?”

“You’re dismissed,” Amir said. “Remember, horses in the morning.”

“Of course,” Fitz said. “Good night, Your Highness.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Amir woke up feeling sated and well-rested. He got dressed in casual clothes, slipped on a pair of boots, and walked outside quickly for his morning ride with Sydney before breakfast. He wasn’t hoping for much, but maybe a lingering intimate moment between the two of them in the stable would be possible.

He was a little surprised to see Fitz in the stable, before he remembered yesterday. Fitz was getting all smiles from Sydney, and Amir was a little jealous. He should be the one Sydney was smiling at. Not a lowly slave like Fitz. “Sydney!” he greeted, forcing his usual cheer even though he wanted nothing more than to wring Fitz’s neck.

Sydney turned to him with a smile. “Good morning, Your Highness. I trust you slept well?”

“Yes, the party last night rather tired me out,” Amir said.

“Good to hear you slept well,” Sydney said. “Fitz here was just talking about you.”

Amir narrowed his eyes at Fitz. “Oh?” he asked.

“Indeed,” Sydney said. He laughed. “He said that you were certainly one of the most interesting masters he has ever had. Not entirely sure what that means, interesting, but I hope it’s a good thing.”

“Why wouldn’t it be a good thing? We’re talking about me, after all,” Amir said with a laugh.

Sydney chuckled. “I suppose that is true,” he admitted.

Amir’s heart fluttered. “You always agree with me when I’m behaving like a narcissist,” he noted.

“Not always,” Sydney protested. “But often enough.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I just think you’re...worth that praise,” Sydney said with a shrug.

“Are you two going to make out now, and should I leave?” Fitz interjected.

Amir glared daggers at Fitz. “Yes, you should leave. But no, I don’t believe we will be ‘making out’ as you claim.”

“Well, why not?” Sydney whispered in Amir’s ear as Fitz left.

“People will talk,” Amir murmured, turning to Sydney.

“Let them talk,” Sydney said with a shrug. “Your father doesn’t listen to office gossip.”

“Meaning?” Amir breathed.

Sydney gave Amir a crooked grin and leaned in, meeting his lips with Amir’s. Slow, tender, intimate. Amir kissed him back gently, bringing a hand up to caress Sydney’s cheek. They parted after a second; they couldn’t get caught after all. But the kiss left Amir feeling buzzed and he grinned as Sydney pulled back and his eyes fluttered open. “You ready to ride?” Sydney asked, turning to the horses.

“Of course!” Amir said, pleased.

The two of them saddled up and set off at a steady gait through the fields. Sydney turned to Amir. “So, how was the party, really?”

“Jamila was being an ass, but what else is new?” Amir asked.

Sydney tutted. “That girl would be gorgeous were she not rotten to the core.”

Amir hummed his agreement. “What about you? You weren’t at the party.”

Sydney sighed. “I was taking all the horses from the far-traveling nobles to the extra stables. Those horses…they do not like each other, Amir. Nearly stampeded each other, and consequently me, to death.”

“I’m very glad you’re all right,” Amir said softly.

“That means a lot, Your Highness,” Sydney said. “Truly.”

Amir smiled and Sydney smiled back, before turning towards the horizon and sighing contentedly. “The sun in rising,” he said, nodding to the lightening sky.

“Indeed it is,” Amir said. “I suppose we’ll have to head back soon.”

“Not immediately, though,” Sydney said.

“No, not immediately,” Amir said, feeling his heart soar. Sydney liked him! Sydney wanted to spend time with him! Amir couldn’t imagine anything better!

They rode in companionable silence for a few minutes, before Amir sighed. “You know, I never imagined that you might like me,” he laughed. “I didn’t dare hope.”

“Well, I’m glad I could correct you on that, then,” Sydney said with a smile.

“I’ve never been so glad to be wrong,” Amir said with a huff of a laugh and a half-smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy,” Sydney said with a grin of his own. “It’s nice, though.”

“It is,” Amir agreed. “I feel…lighter.”

“Always good to hear,” Sydney said.

“Sydney, I will warn you…” Amir trailed off, thinking over his words. “You know we can’t marry, or let anyone know we’re doing this.”

“I understand,” Sydney said, nodding. “And you’re going to have to keep up appearances, of course. Find a wife, have children, do what’s expected of you.”

“Exactly,” Amir sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And I really wish I didn’t have to. I wish I could just be with you. But Jamila, should she become my wife, she would be okay with us being together.”

“That’s promising,” Sydney said, looking vaguely shocked. “I wouldn’t have expected that of her.”

“I know,” Amir said. “But something tells me she’s desperate enough to be queen that she will do anything to ensure it. Including letting me have whatever man I want, so long as they are strictly non-public and on the side.”

“Well, if it means the two of us get to stay together, then let Jamila be your wife,” Sydney said. “Do you two know when you’re going to propose?”

“No,” Amir admitted. “Everyone assumes we’re dating on some level, but we’ve always been more of a friends with benefits, to me. And making things official means I have to be more romantic with her. Everyone expects me to pop the question to someone by the end of the year, but I’m truly not ready for the kind of commitment that the world expects of me when I’m engaged.”

“I can understand why,” Sydney said. “Pretending to be in love with someone you’re not can be quite the strain on anyone, let alone someone with as many duties as you already has. Throw pretending to be in love for an engagement in and, well! I’m rather lucky I don’t have to be you, Your Highness.” Amir laughed in shock. “I would never have expected you to say something so bold, Sydney!” he exclaimed.

Sydney smiled. “There are many things you don’t know about me, Your Highness. Things I couldn’t share because we were merely prince and stable boy. Now that I have a more intimate relationship with you, I imagine I can share quite a bit more.”

“Not everything?” Amir teased.

Sydney got a far away look in his eyes as he turned his horse around to go back in. “No, not everything,” he said softly. “Not yet, at any rate.” Amir turned his horse around too and sighed. “One day, I hope to earn your trust enough that you can _truly_ tell me anything.”

“I hope the same,” Sydney agreed. “I would hate for you to never know who I truly am.”

They rode back to the stable while Amir brooded over what Sydney had just told him. “I’m afraid much of today will probably be spent sparring with my father. Not a lot of spare time for me to talk to you.”

“That’s quite all right, Your Highness. At worst, I will simply see you tomorrow morning for our next ride. And since tomorrow is a weekend, your mother goes light on your studies. You will have more time to ride than you do today.”

“True!” Amir agreed. “I look forward to our ride tomorrow.” He dismounted his horse and grabbed Sydney’s hand, kissing his knuckles. “You have a good day, Sydney.”

“I will certainly try to, Your Highness,” Sydney said with a little smile.

Amir left the stable and headed back to the palace, stretching on his way. If the sun was coming up, his father was no doubt preparing for their morning battles lesson, and Amir didn’t want to be caught off guard when he walked inside. He made it to the back door before his father flung it open wide. “You’re late,” his father growled.

“Had to deal with my new slave, Father,” Amir said. “He’s got a mouth on him when he assumes we’re alone. That needs to stop.”

“Quite right,” his father said. “But that doesn’t mean that you should be late because you got a too-good whipping out of him.”

“Of course not,” Amir said, following his father inside to the armory. “What are you teaching me this morning?” he asked.

“Swords,” his father replied shortly. “Fencing. I expect to see you in two.”

“Of course,” Amir told his father as he left. He quickly grabbed a fencing sword and took the remaining time he had to stretch. His father and him never used the suits anymore; Amir had far too much control in his father’s mind to warrant the protection. He took a breath and exited the armory into the practice room just to the side, which was big enough to fire a small canon, should Amir want to incur his father’s wrath. He looked around. His father did not appear to be in the room. “Father?” he called expectantly, holding his sword up.

There was a whoosh behind him, and Amir knocked away his father’s sword just before it landed on his shoulder. “You’re slipping, boy,” his father said.

“It is still early in the morning, Father, I expect you’ll be dealing with quite a bit more the more I wake up,” Amir said simply, batting his father’s sword away and getting into position.

His father gave him a thousand-yard stare. “I’m unimpressed, boy,” he said.

“I can see that,” Amir said simply. “I will make you proud one day, Father.”

His father snorted. “You’re all bark, boy, and very little bite. Good thing you never have to go up against me, because you fight like the King of the West. All honor, and drive, and with all these silent rules that he followed. It’s what led to his downfall.”

Amir had heard this a thousand times before, so he simply rolled his eyes internally and externally shrugged. “What would you have me do, then, Father?”

“Fight dirty. Exploit the enemy’s weaknesses. One day, you might just win from that,” his father said.

Amir furrowed his brows. His father was the one who taught him the rules to fencing. He used to get irate when Amir would ignore the rules. “You never used to like when I disobeyed the rules,” he told his father.

“That’s when you were a child and you were _learning_ the rules, Amir,” his father said. “Now that you know the rules, it’s time to _exploit_ them.”

Amir looked over his father, noticing he was leaning on his knee in the way he did when he had stood for too long the night before. Amir narrowed his eyes and swiped his foot around the back of his father’s leg, causing his father to stumble and Amir stabbed the sword into his father’s chest. “Is that acceptable?” Amir asked with a sly smirk.

“That’s my boy,” his father said with a smirk. He stood and got into position again. _“En garde!”_

Parry. Thrust. Parry. Parry. Amir fell into the rhythm easily, keeping an eye on his father on the off-chance he did something that broke the rhythm Amir had grown to recognize over the years. Amir knew that he could probably do something that would beat his father if he really tried, tried to break the rhythm and found out what was successful, but Amir always thought it better to let his father underestimate him and deal with the occasional insult or being compared to the King of the West. Amir fought dirty here and there, but didn’t try to beat his father in pure combat. If his father knew all his tricks, then Amir would surely lose.

Observing his father, Amir could point out so many things he could exploit. The slowly growing blindness in his father’s left eye. The slightly uneven gait, favoring his right foot because the King of the West nearly blew out his father’s knee during their final battle. Amir could use all of this and more, but he knew better than that. If he ever had to _truly_ battle his father, and not just spar, he would have to use that to his advantage.

At the end of it, Amir was stabbed in the chest lightly by his father, and his father nodded. “You have admittedly improved boy, but you’re still no match for me.”

“Of course not, father. No one is a match for you,” Amir said simply.

“And don’t you forget it!” his father said, pleased. “Go on with your studies with your mother. You have passed my tests...for now.”


	5. Chapter 5

Amir was studying in the early afternoon when he heard a commotion coming from outside. He could see a crowd gathering, and he was on his feet and out the door before a servant could even come in to tell him he was wanted. The poor servant who had that job rushed by Amir’s side, struggling to keep up. “One of the escaped slaves, Your Highness—They found him!”

Amir nodded, never breaking his stride. Few slaves had been stupid enough to try and escape the palace, and even fewer survived getting outside the doors. One of the few who had escaped a month ago had been hiding out somewhere in the city. The rest of them had died, either by the citizens’ hands or because no one would hire a Westerner and so they succumbed to the elements and their own needs.

When he got to the front, he could see his father holding the scrawny man up by his hair, and was shouting curses, asking if the slave thought he could get away. Amir barely understood the words being spoken, and judging by the fear on the Westerner’s face, he didn’t understand it at all. His father turned to him and said, “Ah, Amir! Good. You’re a man, now. It’s time to prove it. You get to punish this slave publicly today.”

Amir blinked. “I do?” he asked dumbly. His father always took care of punishments by himself, he couldn’t imagine what on Earth had possessed his father to let _him_ take the reins.

“It’s time you prove to your people that you will not be moved,” his father said, gesturing to the commoners who had come to see the commotion. “Here, now.”

Amir walked over as his father threw the slave to the ground. A quick glance around proved what Amir suspected: many of the slaves had come to watch as well. “Fitz!” Amir called into the crowd. “Come here!”

The slave tried to scrabble away but Amir placed a foot on his back, knocking the wind out of the man. “Fitz! I won’t ask again.”

Fitz scrambled forward, weaving between slaves. “Apologies, Your Highness. I was in the back when you called.”

“Hold him still.” Amir said, gesturing to the slave under his boot.

“You want—what?” Fitz asked.

“Did I stutter?” Amir asked.

Fitz paled but obliged, walking over and mumbling to the slave what sounded like a, “I’m so sorry,” before grabbing him under the armpits and struggling to hold him still.

Amir rolled his eyes and said, “Hold him by the knot in the ropes on his wrists, Fitz. Quickly now.”

Fitz nodded, grabbing the knot and letting the man dangle, his legs sprawled on the ground and his back free reign. Amir pulled out his flogger. He held it high in the air, before letting it come down with a whistle and a loud _crack!_ on the slave’s back. The slave howled. Fitz flinched.

Again, Amir brought the flogger down. Again, Fitz flinched. He continued beating the slave until Amir’s arm was tired, and he had to have given the man about forty lashings. The man had gone silent, a shuddery, wide-eyed mess as Fitz put him down on the ground at Amir’s signal—not rough, but not gently either. “Let this be a lesson to everyone here!” Amir bellowed to the crowd. “No one betrays the crown.”

And with that, he turned to his father. His father gave him a pleased nod. “Go back to your studies, boy. I know that you’ve been needing to practice your lessons in diplomacy.”

Amir nodded, walking back inside. Fitz followed him, hesitantly. “Do you need me for anything else, Your Highness?”

“So long as you don’t babble too much, I would appreciate someone to rant to about my studies.” Amir sighed. “It’s a lot of work, and sometimes I don’t understand half of it.”

Fitz nodded, and the two of them returned to the table that Amir had been studying at in the library. Fitz watched Amir sit down, before slowly taking a seat himself. Amir went back to reading, but when he looked up to talk to Fitz, to say he needed water, he was surprised to find Fitz’s eyes slowly going over the page. “You can read.” Amir said. It wasn’t a question.

“My mother thought it important to teach me.” Fitz admitted softly. “We worked for a librarian about the time I would have started to learn in our kingdom.”

“Slaves your age should not be allowed to read,” Amir said. “I’m fairly certain my father forbade it.”

Fitz’s voice was soft and trembling as he asked, “Are you going to tell anyone?”

Amir considered. On the one hand, what Fitz had just admitted was illegal. On the other hand…Fitz was a good slave. He could use someone competent by his side. “No,” Amir said. “But you mustn’t read around anyone else. I cannot guarantee what they would do to you.”

Fitz looked at Amir in awe. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he said. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“I don’t really care to know,” Amir said simply. “Don’t let me catch you reading again. Can’t let others know about this.”

“Of course not, of course not.” Fitz said quietly.

Amir looked Fitz over, and asked, “Do you know what you’re reading at all?”

“I’m sure I would understand better if I had read previous chapters, but I understand the words themselves, if not the context,” Fitz said.

“Hm,” Amir mused. “Maybe I could find you some remedial books to keep you occupied in my room when I don’t immediately need you but require your presence. Might make you seem less…gloomy.”

“I do enjoy reading, Your Highness,” Fitz said softly. “I know that I can read about as well as a child of nine, here. At least.”

“Maybe some intermediate books then,” Amir muttered. “Go to the shelves. Pick out a few that you may like. I will take them to my room when my studies are over.”

“No one will question you,” Fitz asked.

“No one would dare, except for my father. And he doesn’t care enough about me to find me, especially when he could have his boots licked in the afternoon by his advisors, instead.” Amir replied. “Not some big, arduous task, Fitz. If it were, I would not have offered.”

“Of course, Your Highness. Thank you, Your Highness,” Fitz said, scurrying off to look at the shelves.

Amir sighed and got back to work. He shook his head minutely. He didn’t even really know why he was doing this for Fitz. He had no real reason to. After all, if he wanted Fitz to shut up, all he had to do was say so. True, this was an easier way to get him to be quiet, but was it worth it? Giving the slave a better ability to read? That seemed rather dangerous. If Fitz could read well enough, he might be able to formulate a way out of here.

Fitz seemed too smart to try and escape, though. He knew that he’d be killed if he tried. So he wouldn’t. He seemed like that kind of person, and Amir liked to think he was good at reading people.

When Fitz returned, he had three books that Amir recognized from his childhood, but were definitely on the thicker side. Amir looked at Fitz with an arched eyebrow. “Less trips for either of us if I choose the thicker ones,” he said simply.

Amir nodded, pleased. He hadn’t even considered that. “True,” he said. “And if you ever bring books to my chambers and someone questions you on the way, say that they’re for a project I’m attempting. I have made mentions in the past of indexing all the books in the library, so most will assume that’s what I’m doing. And if they ask me, I won’t tell them why, because they don’t need to know, and most don’t really care. They just want to make sure that you’re not the one who’s doing the reading.”

“But…I will be?” Fitz asked, looking hopeful.

“You think _I_ want to read all those books over and over again?” Amir asked with a snort. “I practically wore the spines off a couple books in this library when I was actually the ideal age for them. You think I want to read them _again_ after that?”

“I suppose not,” Fitz said softly.

“No,” Amir agreed.

“Your Highness? May I ask you a question?” Fitz asked.

“I suppose,” Amir said.

“Why would you have me hold up the slave today? You could have chosen anyone. Why me?”

Amir shrugged. “I figured if I used him as an example it might become clear to you why you shouldn’t mouth off at me,” Amir explained.

“Oh,” Fitz said softly.

“Why?” Amir asked.

“I suppose…I didn’t like it very much, Your Highness. It made my stomach churn.”

“It’s supposed to do that, Fitz,” Amir said. “You’re not supposed to like what happens to the bad, unruly slaves.”

“I know, I know, it just…” Fitz took a breath. “I suppose my old masters _were_ soft on me, if this is how most masters treat their slaves.”

“Indeed,” Amir said.

Fitz sat down and traced the words on the spines of the books. “Would it be all right if I read one of these now?” he asked.

“I suppose,” Amir said. “No one comes here to check up on me unless there is an emergency. No one dares. So you should be safe to read that next to me.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Fitz said, cracking open the book. “I know you have nothing to gain from this, so it means a lot to me that you would allow me this.”

“Quite,” Amir said absentmindedly, returning to his work.

They sat there for a while in companionable silence, Fitz reading his book while Amir took notes from his texts. Amir sighed. “So Sydney and I are…tentatively dating,” he said slowly.

“That’s good, Your Highness. Isn’t it?” Fitz said.

“You would think so, but it means a lot of hiding on my part, and in all honesty, I don’t like thinking about the things I have to do in order to get what I want from Sydney while still keeping up appearances. My father…” Amir rolled his eyes. “You don’t want to hear about this.”

“It might make you feel better,” Fitz offered. “And if it does that, I will gladly listen.”

“My father is of the firm belief that I can only be with a woman, ever, and have children, and berate people for the tiniest mistakes, and…really, he wants a miniature version of him. My mother has made sure that I am not that, she taught me what I know about feelings and empathy, but my father always hated whenever I did something that he would never consider.”

“That sounds tough,” Fitz said, putting down his book to look at Amir. “I can’t imagine what that must be like, always stuck in someone’s shadow.”

“It’s not easy,” Amir sighed. “You, Fitz…you’re lucky in the sense that you don’t have to live up to anyone. You don’t have to be someone’s shadow. You may always work for others, but at least you know what to do in that regard. I…” Amir swallowed, looking down at his notes. “I don’t. I don’t know what my father wants from me, and what I’m supposed to do to please him. It’s a rock and a hard place, and I don’t quite like it here.”

“One day, you can step out of your father’s shadow and be King, can’t you?” Fitz asked. “You may have to endure this for a few more years, at most, but once you’re old enough, and your father trusts you enough, you can be your own king.”

“I suppose,” Amir sighed. “That is something to look forward to, I suppose. Not that it means my father won’t nitpick every last thing I do, even when I become King myself. He’ll always question my intentions. That’s just who he is.”

“I feel like…questioning intentions can be useful,” Fitz said thoughtfully. “To make sure you have good reason to do what you’re about to do. I don’t think anyone questioned your father when he went off to kill the King of the West, because…well. Anyone can see that enslaving an entire nation is quite a bit of an undertaking. And one that he must not have thought through all the way, if you have this many people unemployed and the economy on the brink of collapse from a surplus of blue collar workers, you know? So healthy questioning can be useful.”

“No one questions him, though!” Amir exclaimed. “All they ever do is question me, because I’m not him.”

“I don’t know, Your Highness,” Fitz said softly. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Amir scoffed. “Go take the books to my room,” Amir said, waving a hand. “I don’t wish to speak to you anymore.”

Fitz nodded, took his books, and retreated. Amir scoffed again. A good thing that he wasn’t like his father? How absurd! Sure, Amir wasn’t a carbon-copy of his father, but surely, the only way to be successful and get results was to be like his father. If he wasn’t like his father, after all, then…who was he?


	6. Chapter 6

The palace was always a nice place to sit and talk, true, but if Jamila and Amir ever needed privacy for something, they were much more likely to find it in that little backstreet café that they frequented when they were younger teens because they thought it made them "cool." No one came looking for them here. So they sat in the back corner, Amir sipping some coffee while Jamila played with the tea in her hands as she spoke. "I don't know, Amir. I know you can fuck around as you please, because I gave you permission for that, but...someone out there who isn't high up the ladder? Really? Not just not high up, but a _stable boy?_ Are your standards really that low?"

"He's nice, Jamila. I don't know what you want me to say about him," Amir said with a little shrug. "Honestly, I've liked him for a while now. You shouldn't be surprised that we made it official this week."

"No, no, I know," Jamila sighed. "But if you had chosen one of the noble's sons, you could have gotten something out of them."

"But I don't want something out of them," Amir said. "I just want someone who I love."

Jamila shook her head. "You are a hopeless romantic. That's your problem, Amir, honestly."

"What's so wrong with being a hopeless romantic?" Amir asked. "I rather like the thought of someone being hopelessly in love with you and being willing to cross the earth just to make you happy."

"Yeah, but you see that as a grand gesture, not a necessity," Jamila said. "If we get married, I _expect_ those things. It's not a nice add-on. It's a requirement."

"Gee, and you wonder why I'm not ready to marry you quite yet," Amir said drily. "I'm not used to grand gestures, Jamila. I see it as a nice add-on because no one ever did those sorts of things for me before. Most people working for my father do the bare minimum and that's it. Even the slaves prefer to slack off when they can. Really, it's somewhat disgraceful, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you," Jamila said.

"I know you didn't, but I'm saying anyway," Amir said with a sigh.

"You are right though. It is disgraceful. People should be crawling all over themselves to serve you. It's what you deserve as Crown Prince," Jamila said with a firm nod.

Amir shrugged. "I don't know about all that," he admitted. "I will say that sometimes, it can be difficult to tell who truly appreciates me and who only wants to be close for me to the crown."

"Who cares who's actually close to you because they want to be?" Jamila asked with a scoff. "So long as you maintain the crown, that will never be an issue. Don't throw away your chances and you're good to go!"

Amir sighed. "See, at least you're honest, Jamila. You only want to be close to me so that you can become Queen."

"Obviously," Jamila laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "No, Amir. In all seriousness, I did appreciate you being my friend as a child...but we're not children anymore. We need to set our goals on higher heights, you know? We need to insist on the best, or no one will ever do their best for us. We have to push, and push, and push, and push, until we get what we want. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I know," Amir insisted, voice firm and somewhat agitated. "You only tell me that every single time we talk."

"I just want to make sure that you have your priorities straight," Jamila defended.

"No, I know," Amir sighed. "But what you think are my priorities being straight and what I think my priorities being straight are can be vastly different."

"Yeah, because you rarely deal with it being crooked, and you let it bend more and more until it's practically useless to you," Jamila sighed. "You need to think about your people, Amir."

"I _do_ think about my people, Jamila," Amir said, frowning.

"No, no, not like that," Jamila scoffed. "You're always trying to make sure they're 'the best that they can be' and all that sappy shit," she said. "When in actuality, you just need to make sure they're just content enough that they don't revolt."

"Really?" Amir asked skeptically. "You honestly believe I can get away with mistreating them? That doesn't seem right."

"It doesn't matter if it _seems_ right or not, Amir. All you need to know is if it benefits you, and it won't cause public outcry," Jamila said, throwing her hands up in the air. "Your father wasn't even trying to drill that into me and I understand it better than you do."

"Well, I see people as people," Amir responded simply. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Well, _there's_ your problem!" Jamila scoffed. "The people aren't people. They're tools. Tools that you use to make sure that you get your way. Don't you understand? You're the Crown Prince. You can have whatever you want, whenever you want it."

"I understand that," Amir groaned. "I do that with my new slave, Fitz. Whenever I need to get off I have him to fuck. Because he's mine and what I say goes. But that's slightly different, because he's a slave. He doesn't have anything to do in his life except serve me. I see the citizens of this country as actual people, who have their own wants and their own needs. My mother says it's important to have empathy towards them, or else they _definitely_ will revolt, and they won't stop until they get what they want, which is usually money and power, so that they can be treated like people again."

"Ugh, your mother," Jamila scoffed. "She doesn't understand this either, you know. She thinks that empathy is all there is. Well, it's not! There's so much more out there for us if we just take it when we want it! Your father was considering taking over the Hinterlands, rumor has it."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Amir sighed. "And anyone who resisted his regime would be turned into slaves for the higher class?"

"Exactly!" Jamila exclaimed. "Now you're getting it!"

"I'm afraid I really don't," Amir said. "Those people aren't trying to destroy us. They're just living their lives. They're innocent. They don't deserve to be put into slavery just because my father doesn't like them. Sure, having more control over the land would be nice. But most of the people there are just minding their own business. If they don't need a new ruler to show them the way to live their lives, then they'll obviously push back against someone doing just that. And they shouldn't be faulted for that. After all, the reason the West was enslaved was because—"

"—Because the King of the West was evil, and people took offence to the King of the East killing their King," Jamila said. "Yeah, that's what everyone told you when you were little. But don't you understand? People of the West were _relieved_ when their king was dead. They thought that they could appoint a more just ruler. Your father took them as slaves because he wanted to, not because they were revolting against him!"

Amir felt like a bucket of ice water had been dunked over his head. "What?" he asked.

"What, do you think only the people who didn't like the King were slaves and the rest of the people, what, stayed in the West under the rule of your father?" Jamila laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, Amir! Every last one of the Westlanders were either killed or enslaved. And the same would happen to those in the Hinterlands. We would have more slaves, and less work to do, which would be ideal!"

"No, it wouldn't," Amir said softly. "The economy is on the brink of collapse because the lower class barely has any work anymore!"

"Well, that's their problem, then!" Jamila exclaimed. "We're of the higher class, Amir, we don't need to worry about them!"

Amir thought Jamila had lost her mind. He didn't doubt her on the history of the East and the West, no, Jamila knew too much history to be wrong about that. But everyone being enslaved? Just because his father wanted them to be? Just because he wanted them serving on their hands and knees for him because he didn't like their King? That was cruel! It was unjust! It was...not fair.

No, Jamila had to be exaggerating. Surely, everyone had to be against his father somehow. They were trying to revolt, or they met him with swords and he didn't like that, so he was exacting his revenge. Not the prettiest story, but it made more sense than what Jamila was saying. Surely, his father didn't enslave everyone just because he wanted to. "Jamila..." Amir said slowly. "I have a question about history for you."

"Of course," Jamila said.

"They did find the Queen of the West, didn't they? Eventually? I imagine it was when I was too young to be able to remember, but they did find her?"

"Oh, no. They never did quite find her. Why?" Jamila asked.

Amir thought. He had seen pictures of the King and Queen of the West. He had seen what that slave his mother had received looked like. He had assumed that she might have been related to the Queen of the West, but could she actually be _the_ Queen? "No reason," Amir sighed. "I just figured if you were keen on giving me a history lesson, I may as well ask you a few things my tutors may have overlooked in my lessons."

Jamila huffed. "Yeah, your tutors are certainly not the brightest in the bunch sometimes, are they?" she asked with a laugh. "I mean, sure, they're plenty bright, but they don't realize that sometimes, you have to be taught the cold hard truth to understand something."

No, Jamila was wrong. Those tutors _were_ clearly the smartest. Because they and his mother both knew that he would have had problems learning this information, so they kept it hidden from him. There was no other explanation, no other way this could have happened. "I suppose not," Amir sighed. "Don't tell my father that, though."

"Of course not," Jamila said with a wink. "That secret is safe with me."

"Thank you," Amir said with a slight nod. "I know I'll have to return to the palace soon, or else Sydney might come searching for me. We were going to talk sometime around this afternoon."

"I still don't understand why you would want to hang around, him, Amir. There's nothing to be gained from it," Jamila said simply.

There's love to be gained from it," Amir said simply. "And that's good enough for me."

"Whatever, weirdo," Jamila sighed. She stood. "I have to get going soon anyway. My mother and I were going to look for dresses for one of our more upscale dates, to make sure I look perfect when you propose!"

Amir laughed and Jamila sent him one last wink and a wave, leaving the café. Amir stood as well, thinking as he headed back to the castle. Jamila had to be wrong, or embellishing. That _had_ to be it. If it wasn't...well, if it wasn't, then Amir's father was crueler than Amir had first suspected, and that would be quite a bit of a mental toll on him whenever he had to be around his father.

He could twist the narrative to suit his needs, though. He could do that. The people revolted against his father. They were turned into slaves because they betrayed the crown and lost all their rights. Simple. Easy. Palatable.

That knowledge in hand, Amir went back to the palace and practically ran to the stables to see Sydney. "Hello, my love," he said when Sydney turned from washing the horses.

"Amir," Sydney said softly. "I'm glad you came. Are you willing to help wash the horses while we talk?"

"Always," Amir said with a soft smile.


	7. Chapter 7

Amir stormed into the slaves quarters in a foul mood. He had talked to Sydney, and they had fought over the history of slavery and whether or not what had happened was justified, no matter the reason the King had _actually_ done it. Sydney didn't want to talk to Amir the rest of the day, so he was already irritated before he remembered what had happened with Jamila. And now he needed to find the missing Queen of the West.

When he entered the room he knew his mothers slaves were in, he could see the woman in question right away, talking to Fitz. Fitz stood an inch, before the woman pushed him down back onto the bed and stood. "It's all right, honey. I'll handle this one, if that's all right, Your Highness?"

Amir crooked his finger and walked out of the room, before heading to a storage closet down the hall that no one ever used. He leaned against the door of it with his hand, watching the woman approach him slowly. "Name?" he ground out.

"Florence," the woman said, without so much as a flinch.

"Really, now?" Amir growled. "Because I could have sworn it was _Lavinia."_

That earned him the flinch he was looking for. "I knew it," he growled. "I _knew_ that you both looked too familiar. Your son—he is really your son, or at the very least a close relative, is the lost prince!"

Lavinia looked like she was holding back tears. "Please, Your Highness, I'm begging you, don't tell anyone—"

"And why shouldn't I?!" Amir snapped. "Why should I keep quiet about your precious secret? You should be dead!"

"My son, he's a good slave to you, yes? You don't need to kill him over something that he cannot help!" Lavinia said in a hurried whisper. "Your mother. Please, talk to your mother before you do anything hasty."

Amir growled. "And why should I do that? I'm a man, now. I can make my own decisions."

"Yes, you can," Lavinia said. "But before you have all the information at hand, _should_ you?"

Amir bared his teeth before Fitz came rushing out of the room. "Mom! Mom, please, come back to the room, let me handle this, please. I'm eighteen, I can do it myself."

Lavinia looked at Fitz with so much fear in her eyes. "I don't want you getting hurt," she said softly.

"I won't get hurt Mom, trust me," Fitz said, putting a hand on her arm. "Please. Go back to the room."

Lavinia sighed and looked to Amir in defeat. Amir nodded. "You're dismissed. I need to have a discussion with this one."

With a nod, Lavinia left. "You're the lost Prince of the West," Amir said.

"Yes," Fitz said honestly.

"Your name. Is it really Fitz?" Amir asked.

"No, Your Highness," Fitz sighed. "But I cannot tell you my real one."

"Oh really," Amir scoffed. "And why not?"

"Because if anyone here knows it, they will know who I am. And if you tell anyone, you'll be accused of harboring a fugitive. Do you really think your father would let himself be accused of hiding the royalty of the West away? He needs someone to take the fall. And you're the most convenient person. Even if you could somehow frame it on the nobleman who brought me and my mother to you, he would be able to escape your father's grasp easily. You, on the other hand, can't leave without someone noticing. And the moment someone knows that you know my real name, you're dead."

"So it's for my safety?" Amir asked, clear skepticism in his voice. "I don't buy it."

"You don't have to, so long as you don't know it, you can't prove who I am. It's not like there's a birth certificate for me lying around."

Amir growled. "So what am I supposed to do with you?" he asked. "If not turn you in and execute you?"

"You can keep me as a slave, Your Highness. I'm not exactly going anywhere. Even if I tried to leave, I would simply be executed _that_ way, and I very much value my life."

Amir sighed. He weighed his options. He didn't doubt that his father would make him the scapegoat if he could, that was a no-brainer. But would he be able to? _Of course,_ his mind supplied. _He has the citizens so indoctrinated most of them wouldn't even question him._ So that was out. But keeping Fitz as his slave? Now that he knew who Fitz was? That was going to be difficult, if for no other reason than this was a huge secret and even if he didn't know Fitz's real name, he knew his identity now. "You want me to keep you. As a slave. Knowing what I do to you. While you're secretly a prince of a lost kingdom," Amir confirmed.

"Not much else I can do," Fitz said with a shrug. "Let's be real here."

"Okay, you have a point there," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And you know what? I can view this as finishing what my father started, knowing that you're completely subservient to me. That works."

Fitz shifted on his feet. "So you're not going to tell on me?"

"No," Amir sighed. "I will be talking with my mother, because your mother requested it, however."

"They recognized each other on the first day," Fitz explained. "Your mother has always known who my mom is. Who I am."

"And she didn't call for your execution?" Amir asked, genuinely shocked.

Fitz shrugged. "I guess she felt she had a good reason not to."

Mystified, Amir turned and walked to his mother's study, leaving Fitz behind. He knocked on the door when he found her reading, and she waved him in. "Come in, Amir."

Amir closed the door and walked over, taking a breath. "Your slave—"

"—Is the lost Queen of the West, yes. I knew you would find out eventually."

"Which makes mine—"

"—The lost prince, yes."

"Are we going to tell Father?" Amir asked.

"At this point he would charge us with treason for knowing," his mother said. "So absolutely not."

"And we're just expected to keep them as slaves? For the rest of time? Knowing this big secret?" Amir asked.

"We don't have to," his mother said. "We can always auction them off or trade for another one, if you think you can't handle the secret. But of course, you'd have to explain to your father why we're selling them, without saying the actual reason."

"So the safest thing for them is to really stay here?" Amir asked dubiously.

His mother smiled. "Amir, your father never bothered getting to know anyone in the West beyond the King, and he hated the King with his whole heart. He never spared Lavinia more than a passing glance. He never saw her son before the day he was brought in to you."

"Do you know his name?" Amir asked.

His mother nodded. "I do," she said simply. "I asked Lavinia and she told me."

"He wouldn't tell me when I confronted him," Amir said.

"Well, you confronted him. He's not exactly going to feel safe enough to tell you after that, Amir," his mother chided.

"How do I find it out?" Amir asked.

"Why do you need to know?" his mother asked.

Amir made a noise of discontent. "I just—I need to know."

"Then wait until he trusts you," his mother said. "Give him a reason to give you his name, and you might receive it."

Amir scoffed. "Lost Prince or not, he's still a slave now. Why would I need him to trust me? Why should I give him that reason?"

The Queen leaned back in her chair and sighed. "I always feared you would fall short in my teachings and take up your father's ways," she mused. "It appears my fears were well-founded."

"What is that supposed to mean?!" Amir asked, jutting his chin out in stubborn challenge.

"It means that slaves are human too, Amir," his mother said. "They deserve compassion and empathy as much as anyone else in the kingdom does."

Amir scoffed.

"It's true," his mother insisted. "One day, you might see that. For now, if you are unwilling to listen, I have nothing more to speak to you about."

Amir grumbled but took his leave from the room. He went to his quarters and growled. Stupid Fitz, stupid Jamila, stupid Lavinia! Why did he have to know this and keep it a secret from his father?! It wasn't fair!

He walked out of his room and called to a passing servant, "You there! Grab Fitz for me."

They ran off and Amir went to his nightstand with a sigh. Fitz's books were still stacked on the nightstand. Amir picked one of them up with a smile. A child's encyclopedia on dragons. He had adored this book when he was a kid. He wondered what Fitz thought of it.

Fitz knocked on the door and said, "You wanted to see me, Your Highness?"

"Yes," Amir said. "What do you think of this book?" he asked, holding it up.

"What?" Fitz asked dumbly.

"The book. Your thoughts?" Amir asked.

"I know you didn't call me up here just to talk about books," Fitz said, crossing his arms.

Amir rolled his eyes. "I called you up here for some sex, but that doesn't mean we can't talk about the books first," Amir scoffed.

Fitz closed the door and walked over. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather just get the sex over and done with so I can leave, Your Highness."

Amir frowned. "That repungent, am I?"

"More like despicable, but I thought you called me up here for sex," Fitz challenged.

Amir growled. "You're lucky I don't flog you across the face for that comment," he said. "Take off your pants, get on the bed, and get hard for me. I'm going to ride you today."

"Like Sydney? Or one of his horses?" Fitz quipped.

Amir slapped Fitz across the face, hard, and Fitz yelped. "Show some respect, _Your Highness,"_ Amir said, voice dripping sarcasm on the honorific. "After all, _I'm_ the one in charge here."

Fitz silently got on the bed and worked up an erection, while Amir stretched himself with lube until he thought he could take Fitz in. He got himself ready, knelt over Fitz, and slowly sank onto his dick. Amir fought the urge to go limp, but really, being penetrated like this always helped him clear his head. After all, he wouldn't want to have blatant hate sex if it didn't have its benefits. He rose up and sank down again, letting a deep breath out through his mouth as he did so. "You never told me what you thought of the book," Amir said.

Staring up at the ceiling instead of literally anywhere else in the room, Fitz said, "Honestly, Your Highness, it's not bad. Very informative for its reading level. I'm enjoying it."

Amir nodded. "When I'm done and cleaning up in my wash room, I'll allow you to read it some more if you want."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Fitz said dully.

Amir continued to ride Fitz until completion, at which point he slid off and wiped his sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. "I'm going to wash up," he informed Fitz.

Fitz nodded and Amir went to the bathroom, turning on the water at the sink and wetting a towel. He cleaned himself up until he heard a soft grunt from his room. He peeked around the door to find Fitz masturbating. Amir had forgotten that Fitz hadn't came, but he hadn't considered Fitz might _want_ to come from this. When Fitz came into his hand and used a tissue to wipe it clean, Amir went back into the bathroom fully and finished cleaning up. By the time he was out, Fitz was reading the encyclopedia and his pants were back on, and Amir never would have suspected something had just happened had he not seen it himself.

He was, however, a little confused on why he thought watching Fitz get off was something hot.


	8. Chapter 8

Amir was red in the face when he ran out to Sydney's stable. Sydney turned to look at him and laughed the second he spied Amir's face. "Goodness, Amir, I've never seen you that red before! Did you run across the entire grounds to see me?"

"Uh, no," Amir stammered out. "I just happened to walk in on...uh...some very enthusiastic servants as I was making my way out here."

"Oh." Sydney laughed again. "Oh! You watched them make out?"

"Not intentionally," Amir said. "And it was...slightly more than making out."

"They were having sex?" Sydney asked, arching his eyebrows up in surprise.

"About to, when I walked in," Amir said, cheeks flaming deeper red. "They apologized profusely of course, but I don't understand...I wasn't as embarrassed as I was..." he trailed off.

"Turned on?" Sydney asked, grabbing the saddles for the horses.

"Um. Yeah." Amir scratched the back of his neck. "I don't understand it."

Sydney dropped the saddle in surprise before beginning to snicker. "You genuinely don't know, Amir?" he asked. "And here I thought you knew everything!"

"Sydney," Amir warned. "Be careful with what you say next."

Sydney cleared his throat. "Right. Sorry. It means you're a vouyer, Amir. You like watching people have sex."

Amir had stopped blushing somewhat, but just like that, his cheeks heated up again. "It sounds weird when you put it like that."

"Not weird," Sydney said. "There's plenty of people who would consent to getting off or having sex with another consenting partner while you watch. It's deviant, but not weird."

"Don't those two go hand in hand?" Amir asked.

Sydney lifted the saddle back up and put it on his horse. "Not always," he said.

Amir thought about this as Sydney got the other horse ready, and as they rode out, Amir said, "So, say this isn't the first time this happened to me..."

"I'd say you're very unfortunate in walking in on people when they want privacy," Sydney laughed.

"No, Sydney..." Amir huffed. "I'm serious. Say I saw someone having sex. Masturbating. Whatever. And I watched them without them knowing. Is that bad?"

"It's definitely creepy," Sydney said slowly. "And of course, it's an invasion of their privacy."

Amir went quiet. He was thinking back to Fitz getting off, and how turned on he had been. Had that been a bad thing? "Even if they're a slave?"

Sydney stopped his horse. "What?" he asked.

"I mean, slaves don't have the same rights we do, they don't get privacy, so then it's okay, isn't it?" Amir asked.

"No! Amir, you've been watching _slaves_ have sex in their downtime?!" Sydney asked.

"Well, it wasn't exactly his off time. See, I had just washed up from having sex with Fitz..."

"You've had sex with Fitz while we're together?!" Sydney asked even more incredulously.

"It's not cheating, he's my slave!" Amir exclaimed. "And he didn't ask for it!"

"You _raped_ Fitz while we're together?!" Sydney all but shouted. "Amir! That's not okay!"

"No, no, he's a slave, so he doesn't have the same rights we do! It's okay!"

"No, it's not, Amir!" Sydney exclaimed, pulling away from him with disgust painted on his face. "Like it or not, Fitz is a person! And he _does_ have rights, which you violated in more ways than one! You watched him get off without his consent, and you _raped_ him! How many times?!"

"I hardly see how that's—"

"—So more than once!" Sydney exclaimed. He laughed in disbelief. "I can't believe you. And here I thought you were an upstanding person. Here I thought I could spend the rest of my life with you. When in fact you're an unapologetic rapist."

"Sydney—!" Amir huffed. "I always thought of you when I did it! Not him!"

"And that's supposed to make things better?!" Sydney exclaimed. "Slaves are people, Amir! You treat them like people!"

"No they're not, and no I don't!" Amir exclaimed.

"Clearly, if you're raping them without remorse!" Sydney shouted. He took a breath. "Right. We're done."

"What?" Amir asked, all the blood draining from his face.

"We're _done,_ Amir," Sydney growled. "I don't want to date someone who has as little regard for human life as you. Get one of the other stable workers to ride with you in the mornings, or ride by yourself. I don't care. But I won't work with you anymore."

"Sydney. Sydney!" Amir called as Sydney turned his horse around and rode back to the stable. Amir growled and yanked on his horse's reigns, going of their usual trail. He couldn't believe that Sydney would do this to him. He'd live to regret this day! No one just thought that slaves were people! It was common law that they weren't!

...The law could be wrong, though, couldn't it?

No, of course not! The law couldn't be wrong, or else his father and his grandfather and all his ancestors before him were wrong! And that just wasn't possible! The law couldn't be wrong! Not even a tiny part of it!

...Right?

Amir sighed as he brought his horse to a gallop. He was right, and Sydney was wrong. The fact that Sydney couldn't see this as something redeemable was fault on Sydney's part, not Amir's. And the fact that Sydney thought so meant they were incompatible. It was logical to break up...so why did it hurt so much?

Realizing that he was crying, Amir swiped tears off his cheeks and forced himself to shove aside the pain. He could deal with that later, when he was alone in his room. For now, he had to keep up the appearance that everything was fine.

He brought his horse back to the stable and walked to his room. He was just about to let the tears fall when he opened his bedroom door and found Fitz sitting on the bed, reading one of the children's books he had on the nightstand. Fitz jumped to attention when he saw Amir. "So sorry, Your Highness, I didn't expect you to be back this early! How was everything with Sydney?"

That was the crack that broke the metaphorical dam. Amir's breath caught and a few tears fell. "We're not together anymore," he said, trying to put venom in his voice, but just succeeding in sounding pathetic.

"What? Why not?" Rupert asked.

"He doesn't agree with the fact that I've had sex with you," Amir spat bitterly, closing the door and flopping down onto his bed. "He thinks that it's wrong."

"You disagree, naturally," Fitz said.

Amir buried his head in the duvet with a groan, before sitting up. "...No," he eventually said. "No, the most infuriating thing is that I'm starting to see his point."

"You...you are?" Fitz asked in shock.

"I mean, I look at you, and see a person. You've gone from basic chapter books to young adult novels in a matter of weeks of letting you learn to read. You're smart as a whip, and you have your own personality, that shows through no matter what I tell you to do. At first it was irritating, but now..." Amir sighed. "Now I see that while you might not have the same rights as I do, you _are_ a person. And I see why Sydney was upset with me. And maybe I can forgive myself for being brainwashed by my father, but he certainly won't." Amir shook his head. "And that...that hurts. Knowing that he stopped talking to me because I believed my father on one single act."

Fitz stood there a long moment, not saying anything. "...Rupert," he finally admitted reluctantly.

"What?" Amir asked.

"That's my actual name," he said. "My real name is Rupert."

"...Rupert?" Amir asked. "Your mother has an awful sense of humor."

Rupert cackled before clapping a hand over his mouth and shaking. "I know," he said. "I named myself Fitz because I needed a name that wouldn't give me away as the Crown Prince of the West. But I chose it because I much preferred it to Rupert when I was younger. I like it a little better now, but..."

Amir shrugged. "Okay. Thank you...for telling me. I don't understand why you would..."

"Because you see me as my own individual," Rupert said. "We can work on whether or not I have rights later. But for now, you see me as a person, and that's a huge step for you. I think that, combined with the fact that you haven't told anyone who I am for weeks, means that I can trust you with my real name."

"That's it?" Amir asked doubtfully.

"That's it," Rupert confirmed with a nod. "What, did you think there was some ultra-secret handshake you'd have to learn before you could win me over? Think you'd have to face a hydra and answer some secret riddle before I'd tell you?"

"I guess not," Amir allowed. "But I still expected...something else. I'm not sure what that something else _is,_ but what ever it was, it wasn't this."

Rupert laughed, not unkindly. "Yeah. Be flattered, though. You're the first person I've ever told my name to who isn't also a slave. That's a high honor."

"High honor from a slave?" Amir snorted.

Rupert's smile dimmed some. "I thought you said I'm a person."

"You're a person _and_ a slave," Amir said. "You can be both. But I need to make a promise to you before we further this debate."

"Okay?" Rupert asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"I won't ask sex from you without you having the ability to say no ever again," Amir said. "Like, I might ask for sex. I don't know at this point. But you have every right to say no to me when I ask it of you."

"Really?" Rupert asked, eyebrows shooting up. "You're giving me permission to say no?"

"If you're a human being, you don't need permission to say no," Amir said. "I had my head stuck in my ass for not realizing that sooner, but I see it now. And don't tell Sydney?"

"Why not?" Fitz asked. "He and I get on well enough."

"I know. And he might think that I'm just saying that to get back into his good graces. In actuality I just want you to not feel threatened," Amir said. "So. You can say no if you want to, but...don't tell Sydney I told you that."

"Okay," Rupert said, still looking confused but nodding.

"I have...one other thing to admit to," Amir said sheepishly. "I've...watched you masturbate after I've had sex with you before."

"I've suspected that," Rupert admitted. "There had to be a reason that you'd squirm uncomfortably on the bed after I've gotten off and you've finished cleaning up, and I know it's not because you didn't get off. I had proof up my ass that you did."

"You didn't say anything?" Amir asked.

"What was I supposed to say?" Rupert retorted.

"...Fair enough, I suppose," Amir said. "This might be unconventional, but...would you like to get to know each other better? Not as master and slave, but as people?"

Rupert didn't say anything for a long minute. Amir just let him think through his options. After all, getting to know each other could be highly dangerous, and Amir didn't want to risk Rupert's life if Rupert wasn't also willing to risk it as well. "I suppose that would be nice," Rupert decided. "Would you be willing to point me in the direction of some of your textbooks as a young teenager? I would love to learn more about politics so you could rant to me and I'd actually understand."

"Politics isn't always something you can learn from a textbook," Amir warned. "It takes a light touch."

"Well, I have to learn how to touch it period from _somewhere,_ don't I?" Rupert challenged. "I won't ask you questions if I get confused, if that helps."

"You're welcome to ask questions anyway," Amir said with a shrug. "Getting to teach others helps cement the concepts in one's own mind. And while a lot of the concepts might be basic, there's nothing wrong with an overview."

Rupert looked surprised, but he grinned at Amir, and Amir's heart fluttered in response to seeing him genuinely smile. "Thank you, Your Highness."


	9. Chapter 9

It had been a couple weeks since Sydney and Amir had broken up, and Amir was finally starting to feel human again. All of a sudden, he felt like he could smile at Rupert's sass when he told off a servant because they were trying to trip him up. All of a sudden, he felt like he could laugh when Rupert mispronounced a word in the textbooks he was reading out loud to Amir. And Amir couldn't believe that he was feeling better after he thought that someone who was the love of his life hurt him, and yet here he was. Sitting around, talking to Rupert, and just...living life.

"I don't understand you," Amir said with a little laugh as he looked at Rupert. They were in private enough company that Amir could be friendly with him, but public enough that Amir didn't dare risk using Rupert's real name. "I will never understand you, Fitz."

"It's true!" Rupert laughed, eyes sparkling as he grinned. "I tried ketchup on rice and it was genuinely good."

"With nothing else on it?!" Amir asked incredulously.

"With nothing else on it," Rupert said. "One of the best meals I've ever had."

Amir snickered. "Honestly, Fitz, I don't know if not understanding you is a blessing or a curse at this point."

"Count it a blessing," Rupert suggested. "After all, that means you don't have to question whether ketchup and rice would taste good to _your_ palate."

Amir fake-gagged. "Ugh. Yeah, blessing it is."

Rupert laughed again, before looking down the hallway and spying someone approaching them. Amir looked over and groaned. Jamila. He had forgotten that their "date" was tonight. The date, in actuality, was a ball that Amir would be spending most of his time talking to and dancing with Jamila. It was also a ball that his father wasn't soaking up attention from, so Amir had a ring box in the folds of his robes. "Right. You'd better get going," Amir said, shooing Rupert off with a visible hand-wave.

"Of course, Your Highness," Rupert said, standing up, bowing, and dashing off.

Jamila came up with a sultry smile. "You still chasing all the boys around the palace after your break-up, Amir?"

"Come on, Jamila. You know I would sleep with anyone, but since when would I charm one of my own slaves to try and get in his pants?" Amir asked her, standing up and holding his arms open.

Jamila accepted the light hug and whispered in Amir's ear, "You look beautiful."

"As do you," Amir said as she took a step back.

And she did. She was decked out in purple robes fit for a queen, golden thread embroidered along the edges. She looked good enough to propose to. Amir swallowed. They both were expecting him to pop the question tonight. That was terrifying.

Amir took her hand, and together they walked through the halls. "So I imagine your father is going to hound you about finding a wife soon," Jamila said in a tone that was anything but conversational.

"Yeah, he's already sent me a couple glances when I talk with the female nobility," Amir sighed. "He's expecting me to start courting. Of course, he's been expecting me to publicly court since I turned fifteen, and he never got his wish, because I hate the tabloids, so he might just have to wait yet."

Jamila laughed, but it held a dagger in its hands, pinned under Amir's chin. "Will he now?" she asked.

"I did say might," Amir allowed. "There are plenty of girls in this kingdom I could woo to gain his approval."

Jamila relaxed a fraction. "You know I can't ask you what I want to ask," she said.

"And I cannot answer what you want to ask," Amir responded simply. They put on polite smiles as they walked to where most of the upper class was standing around, waiting for the ball to officially start so they could dance. "You're just going to have to trust me on this one thing."

"Trusting you has always been dangerous, Amir, I can't ever say with certainty that you'll do what we discussed," Jamila said behind her teeth.

"I know," Amir said, kissing her hand before saying louder, "But this time, I believe I am certain in my plans. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a few people I need to speak to."

Jamila's smile tightened but she nodded and let him go. Amir went over to the nobles and discussed how everything was going in quiet tones. More than a few slaves had been talking about an uprising and revolt, and they wanted to stop that before it got started. He spoke with everyone in the room at least once before the musicians started playing, slaves came out with plates of hours d'oeuvres and champagne, and the ball had officially began.

Amir took a flute of champagne almost immediately, starting to sip it as he watched all the younger teens dance without a care in the world, and the older couples dance while reminiscing about times of old in low tones. Amir put down his champagne and smiled as Jamila walked over, and the two of them joined the dancing. One number became two, which became three. Jamila was relaxing in Amir's arms as they danced and spoke about their time as children, seeming to forget all about the proposal. Amir took her hand as they crossed the dance floor, and he noticed that under the main chandelier was empty. He led her to that spot, all the while talking to her so she wouldn't notice where she was taking him. "Remember how we were children and I said I would marry you?" he asked.

Jamila laughed. "Yes. I said you could do so much better than the new girl on the block who you happened to share a tutor with."

"I disagreed back then," Amir said. "And you know what? I think I disagree now."

Jamila frowned, asking, "What do you mean?"

Amir got down on one knee as the violins swelled and he pulled out the ring box, opening it to show a pure white diamond encased in a gold ring. One of the girls nearby gasped and suddenly all eyes were on them. "I think you're the best possible wife for me. I hope you won't disagree now?"

Jamila covered her mouth as she grinned, blinking repeatedly before exclaiming, "Yes, of course! Yes!"

Amir slid the ring on her finger as everyone in the room clapped and Amir kissed Jamila's cheek. He turned to the banister to find his father watching, and his father nodded at him. Amir felt a knot loosen in his chest. He had made a choice his father approved of. Jamila was always on his short list, of course, but Amir didn't know who his top pick had been. And knowing for certain that his father approved helped Amir relax.

Everyone came up to them in turn, congratulating them on the engagement. A few of the girls gave Jamila envious looks, and Amir noticed with some amusement that at least two guys looked at her with jealousy as well. Good. He liked having people after him, even if the chase was "technically" over now.

The ball continued and Amir danced with Jamila the rest of the night. He noticed Rupert hanging out on the edges of the room, holding a plate of champagne. They locked eyes for a heart-stopping moment, before Amir turned in his dance and Rupert looked forward again. He'd have to talk to Rupert tonight, if at all possible.

The ball came to a close and Jamila and her parents lingered for a while, talking to Amir and his parents, talking about potential for wedding dates and venues, and how this came as such a surprise and yet seemed so obvious in retrospect. Of course it did. Amir was only really properly close to Jamila when it came to female friends. She was the most logical choice for his beard.

When even Jamila's parents were gone, Amir's mother said, "Come, dear, I can take you to a bachelorette suite for the time being. We will hopefully get the two of you wed soon enough so you and Amir can share a room without scandal."

The last part was said with a look toward Amir that Amir interpreted as, "Don't leave us waiting this long again."

Amir and his father walked back to Amir's quarters. "You made a good choice with Jamila," he said. "I'm proud of you, son."

"Thank you, Father," Amir said, nodding. "She seemed like the best choice. For me and for the kingdom."

His father seemed to accept that at face value, which Amir thanked the gods for. "Go to bed for the night, Amir. You've earned it. Tomorrow you and your mother will have to go over arrangements for the wedding, but for now, you can rest."

"Good night, Father," Amir said.

"Good night, Amir," his father said, leaving.

Amir blew out a breath and opened the door to his quarters, finding Rupert standing there, hands at parade rest. "So. You proposed tonight," Rupert said. "You proposed to a woman you don't love so that you could get your parents to stop questioning you. Now what?"

"I wish I knew," Amir sighed. "It would be nice to know whether or not they would watch us consummate the marriage."

"Be serious, Amir," Rupert said. Not stern, but not gentle, either. "I want to talk to you about this."

"What, you expect me to try and court _you?_ Are you jealous?" Amir asked.

Rupert went quiet and Amir suddenly felt his stomach sink. "Are you jealous?" he repeated, all jesting lost from his tone.

"Perhaps it's best if I left for the night," Rupert said.

"No, Rupert—" Amir sighed. "You know I don't love her. You know it's to keep up appearances. What else can I say?"

"Nothing," Rupert said. "You can't say anything in this position. But even so, I wish you'd say _something."_

"You are...wonderful company," Amir said. "I will admit that I do have a soft spot for you. And I will admit I do not know whether that is romantic or not at this point at time. But at the very least, you are my closest friend. And that doesn't mean nothing."

"Right," Rupert said, voice sounding hollow.

"Rupert..." Amir walked over to him, stroking his arms and coaxing his hands out of parade rest so Amir could hold them. "You hold a special place in my heart. You know that. And in another world, perhaps we could have been together. But in this world, at this moment, it is simply impossible. It is nothing against you, understand?"

"I understand," Rupert said, still sounding forlorn. "I wish it were different, but I understand."

Amir nodded. "Is there anything I can do to make this up to you?"

Rupert shrugged. "I would like to kiss you, just once. Just to know how it feels."

Amir brought his hand up to Rupert's cheek, stroking his jaw with his thumb. He leaned down, and Rupert lifted his head up, and the two came together for a single, tender kiss. Sparks flew and Amir's stomach flipped with the same butterflies he had with Sydney. When they parted, Rupert's eyes fluttered reluctantly open. "I love you," he breathed.

"I think I might love you too," Amir said with a smile full of regret. "And if there were anything I could to for us to be together, understand that I would do it."

"I know," Rupert said.

There was the sound of footsteps further down the hallway and both of them turned towards the door. Amir took a step out of Rupert's body heat, putting his hands behind his back. "I know you're there, Jamila," he called.

Jamila walked in with a sheepish smile. "Sorry," she said, all sugary sweet smiles, and Amir prayed she hadn't heard what just transpired. "I just wanted to talk to my fiancé before bed, if that's all right."

"Perfectly fine," Amir said, relaxing. "Fitz, give us our space, will you?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Fitz said with a bow, leaving the room.

Jamila's smile dropped and Amir knew instantly that she had heard, and he was about to be in deep shit.


	10. Chapter 10

"Amir, you'd better have a good fucking explanation for this," Jamila spat. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you just had romantic relations on the night you proposed, with a _slave."_

"I thought you didn't care if I fucked around," Amir said with a flippant shrug.

"Yeah, with real people, not _slaves!"_ Jamila exclaimed in a hushed whisper. "Do you know what that could do to us? To the kingdom?!"

"Jamila, slaves _are_ people, to an extent, and if you're the only one who knows, where's the harm?" Amir asked.

"You did _not_ just say that!" Jamila exclaimed, she drew her hands down her face. "Oh, why, why, why?! Why did you have to try and emulate your mother _tonight_ of all nights?!"

Amir crossed his arms. "Jamila. Stop being a bitch."

Jamila froze with fire in her eyes. "Me?! _I'm_ being a bitch?! I'm not the horndog who's been trying to get off on a romantic relationship with a _slave!"_

"I'm not dating him, Jamila! Fuck's sake!" Amir exclaimed.

"You said you would if you could!" Jamila accused.

"Yeah, if he wasn't a slave! Because if he wasn't a slave, then he might be a servant, or a nobleman, hell, he could be a farmer and I'd still fuck around with him faster than I'd fuck around with you!" Amir accused.

Jamila gasped. "You take that back!" she exclaimed.

"Make me!" Amir said, jutting his chin out in challenge.

Jamila stalked over and when Amir thought she was going into a slap, she grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him roughly. Revulsion went through Amir's body and he shoved Jamila off him. "Jamila! Not tonight!"

She _growled._ "You need to learn your lesson, Amir," she spat. "And don't you fuck the slaves who've been bad to you? As well as the one's who've been good?"

"I don't use fucking as a punishment!" Amir exclaimed. "You of all people should respect that! I'm the Crown Prince, still! You're just my fiancée! You're not even queen yet!"

Jamila's eyes sparked with anger. "Oh, you'll live to regret this, Amir," she snarled. She shoved him on the bed and smacked him hard across the cheek, before taking a deep breath. "Okay. Now that we've gotten our anger out, I will see you tomorrow morning for breakfast. Don't be late, okay? I'm requesting that the chefs make our favorite."

She walked out of the room calmly, while Amir almost had a panic attack. When Jamila shoved him on the bed, he thought that she was going to assault him. He thought that he was going to be raped and have to live with that. His blood ran ice cold when he realized that he had done the exact same thing to Rupert, not all that long ago. His heart leapt into overdrive and he dashed through the halls to the slaves' quarters. He ran through the room to Fitz's bunk, where he was sitting alone. "I'm so sorry," Amir breathed when he could speak. "I'm so, so sorry for the things I did to you. You didn't deserve any of them."

Rupert gave him a strange look and slowly walked Amir out of the room. "What caused this sudden apology?" Rupert asked.

"Jamila, she...she..." Amir couldn't breathe long enough and well enough to explain.

"Did she actually...?" Rupert couldn't finish.

"No," Amir said, shaking his head. "But I thought she would. And that terror has to pale in comparison to what you went through. And for that, I am so, so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Amir," Rupert said.

"But what I did wasn't okay," Amir said.

"No, it wasn't, but you have bigger things on your plate to deal with," Rupert said. "You're getting _married_ to that woman soon enough. You need to work out your differences with her."

"Considering she doesn't consider you even a little bit human, that might be difficult," Amir quipped.

"What, you see me as fully human?" Rupert asked in disbelief.

"Not always," Amir admitted. "But I'm trying."

"Wow. That's...wow," Rupert said, pulling his head back a little bit in shock.

"Good wow?" Amir asked hopefully.

"Don't know yet. Still thinking it through," Rupert said. "Do you mind...uh...us going to your chambers? For a little bit?"

"Why?" Amir asked.

Rupert turned pink and coughed. "Well, I mean, if you usually have sex after a frustrating encounter, it would be in character for me to hide out there for a bit, plus...I was kinda going to try and have some fun on my own before you came in, and if you're willing..."

"You're not serious?" Amir asked.

"I wasn't suggesting you fuck me, per se, but me hiding in your bathroom while I do it is better than in the slave's quarters," Rupert said.

"Uh...sure," Amir said. "Can I...uh...watch you?"

"You like that a lot, don't you?" Rupert asked with a smirk. "I guess you can, provided I don't see you when I'm doing it. It would make me freak out if I watched you watch me."

Amir shook his head a little and warned, "You'd better be careful with who can hear, Fitz."

Rupert huffed a laugh. "No one here cares, Your Highness, except His Majesty."

"Not true," Amir said in a low voice. "We have to watch out for Jamila now, too."

"Oh, shit," Rupert breathed. "I hadn't considered that."

"Yeah," Amir hissed. "It's not great, but we don't have much of a choice."

"True," Rupert sighed. They got to Amir's room and Rupert sighed. "So I can either be in the bathroom while you peep around the corner, or I can be in the bed and you can...still peep around the corner. You don't get many options."

"I can peep through the closet?" Amir offered. "And you can have full reign of the bed?"

"That could work," Rupert said, closing the door.

Amir went to his closet and closed the doors almost all the way, while Rupert stripped of his pants and got on the bed. Amir could feel himself growing hard already, and the fact that he was hiding in the closet to watch only furthered his arousal, like he wasn't meant to be here. And then Rupert started stroking himself, and Amir had to bite back a whimper. Gods, why was this so hot? He had no idea, but he was thankful it was. A hand snaked into his own pants as he watched.

Rupert looked good. The way he bit his lip as he would look down at himself, the way his eyes fluttered closed when he found a particularly good sweet spot, all of it was driving Amir crazy. He bit back a groan as he came, and continued to watch until Rupert completed his own round. "You can come out, Amir," Rupert said.

Amir reluctantly pushed open the closet doors. "Was that okay?" he asked.

"In all honesty I mostly forgot you were there," Rupert said. "Only when you shifted in the closet did I remember. And I did...panic a little when I remembered."

"I don't blame you," Amir said, scratching the back of his neck with his clean hand. "I'm really sorry."

"Thank you for the apology," Rupert said. "I don't know whether I can forgive you yet, but the apology itself certainly helps a little."

"Not enough to make you feel completely better," Amir said.

"No," Rupert agreed. "But nothing might make me feel that way, in all honesty. My mother...she got shipped off to a different household a week ago. And I'm still recovering from that when all this happens, and it's just...it's a lot to handle in one week."

Amir felt a twinge of regret as he said, "I couldn't even possibly hope to relate."

"I know," Rupert said with a somewhat bitter smile. "But I needed someone to know, and you care enough that it makes me feel marginally better."

Amir felt shocked at that. "I do? I care enough?"

"Well, most of the slaves are just like, 'That's a part of life that you need to get used to, Fitz.' But no one here other than my mother even knew my real name. If it weren't for you, I'd feel like I had no identity left."

How did Amir respond to that? "I'm happy to have helped," Amir floundered.

"You don't know what to say, do you? All those politics tutors, and for what?" Rupert teased.

"Shut up," Amir growled, but he was resisting the urge to smile. "We should clean up."

Rupert nodded, and the two of them went to the bathroom. Amir stripped his robes off and put them in the bathtub to get rid of the most semen he could, while running some water onto it. Then he and Rupert washed their hands in the sink. Just as Rupert was about to step away, Amir put a lingering hand on Rupert's wrist. "Do you want to stay a while?" Amir offered.

"What would I be doing?" Rupert asked.

"Maybe reading, maybe talking," Amir said. "I don't really care, I just want company that isn't Jamila."

Rupert's lips twitched up. "Wow, such a high compliment, that I'm better than your soon-to-be wife."

"Almost anyone is better than my soon-to-be wife," Amir said simply, with a little laugh. "Don't tell her that."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Your Highness," Rupert said with a little laugh.

The two of them stayed in the bathroom a little while longer, until Amir shut off the bath water and hung his robes up to dry. "Do you want me to get dressed?" he asked Rupert.

Rupert hesitated. "Is it bad if I say yes?" he asked.

Amir shook his head. "I'll put on some pajamas," he said simply.

He went to his room and put pajamas on, and Rupert entered the room slowly. "Why are you being nice to me?" Rupert asked.

"What do you mean?" Amir asked.

"I mean..." Rupert floundered. "You never ask my opinion this much. You never ask what I want. What changed?"

"I hope that I did," Amir said. "Having that fear of Jamila opened my eyes. And I don't want anyone to feel that way again. And while I can't get _everyone_ to listen to me and stop what they're doing...I can handle my own actions, and I can step in where I can. I want to be a part of the solution, not the problem."

"No offence, Your Highness, but...you'll always be a part of the problem so long as you're alive and you allow slaves to exist," Rupert said softly. "And don't think your soon-to-be will allow you to free the slaves, she enjoys being waited on too much for that."

Amir sighed. "I know," he said reluctantly.

Rupert offered Amir a small, sad smile. "It does mean a lot that you're trying, Amir, make no mistake," Rupert said. "It just doesn't do enough to finish the job."

"I know," Amir sighed, getting on the bed and sighing. He pat the mattress. "Think you can handle sitting next to me on the bed?"

"I can try," Rupert agreed, sitting down with a sigh.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. "Do you want me to ask where your mother went?" Amir asked.

"You'd do that?" Rupert asked.

"I mean, I couldn't arrange a meeting between you and her, but I could at least inquire," Amir said.

"That...would mean a lot, Amir, thank you," Rupert said.

Amir offered Rupert a small, conciliatory smile. "Of course. It's the least I can do for my best friend."

"I'm your best friend?" Rupert asked in surprise.

"I mean, Sydney doesn't talk to me anymore, and Jamila is just a bitch. I'm not even sure if I'm friends with her at this point. So yeah, Rupert, you're my best friend," Amir said.

"Wow. That's...sad, Your Highness," Rupert said.

Amir laughed in shock. "You're right, but you don't have to say it!" Amir exclaimed.

Rupert gave Amir a grin. "It wouldn't be a friendship if I didn't rag on you sometimes, Your Highness," he teased.

Amir laughed again, and he felt his chest warm. Maybe, just maybe, they could make this work.


	11. Chapter 11

The next day, Amir was heading out to the stables before breakfast to try and get his anxiety down before Jamila inevitably raised it when someone grabbed him and shoved him roughly against the stable wall. "What the hell are you playing at, Your Highness?" Sydney growled, baring his teeth.

Amir blinked once, twice. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"Yeah, you'd better! What, you and I got in a disagreement so you're trying to prove a point to me by going after your slave?" Sydney asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You told him he could say no to you! And I know you, which means you either did this to prove to me that you're some upstanding guy, or you're going to ignore him when he says no!" Sydney spat.

"You don't know me at all then," Amir said, quickly getting Sydney's grip off him and shoving him back a couple steps. "Because I meant that when I said it to him. What's more, that was _months_ ago, Sydney. And you're just finding out about it now?"

"It's all the slaves have been talking about," Sydney said. "He said no to one of your requests and you just laughed, not pressing the issue."

"We were joking around together," Amir said, frowning. "I asked him to gamble with me for some of my leftover lunch. He said no. I laughed and said I didn't blame him, because the food was dry. And the slaves, what, think this carries over to every aspect of our relationship?"

"They seem to think so," Sydney said. "Are you saying it doesn't?"

"I'm saying it seems a bit ridiculous to assume. After all, you claim to 'know me' and said I'd ignore if he said no. Which isn't true. I did say he could say no to sex. Obviously we have to keep up appearances outside my chambers, but we're friends. And the whole reason we're friends is because you made me look at him as a person. Not that I told you any of this. Because like you said, you'd think I was doing it to prove a point."

Sydney stared at Amir. "You're serious?" he asked. "That seems like a drastic turn-around."

"Look, I'm not saying it was easy, but you breaking up with me was a wake-up call. I'm working on seeing slaves as people. And I don't always get it right. I tend to forget things. But that doesn't mean I'm not trying." Amir shrugged. "I'm genuinely trying. And not to win you back. I'm trying because it's the right thing to do."

"You genuinely think so?" Sydney seemed hopeful.

Amir sighed. "Yeah. Don't tell my father, or Jamila, but I genuinely think that it's the right thing to do."

Sydney nodded. "Okay. And unlike most of the gossipers around the palace, I'll take this secret to my grave."

"You're wonderful, Sydney," Amir said with a smile.

"Don't you forget it," Sydney said. "Sorry about...shoving you into a wall. I expected you wouldn't listen to me unless I cornered you."

"I probably wouldn't have," Amir said. "You seemed to want nothing to do with me, so I've been trying to avoid you the past couple months."

Sydney huffed a laugh. "Do you want to go on a ride together again?"

"I don't know," Amir said. "I've been trying to distract myself from Jamila and breakfast this morning. I thought she was going to sexually assault me last night, and I have to pretend like everything is fine this morning."

"She tried _what?!"_ Sydney asked. "That's not okay, Your Highness! Why wouldn't you say something?"

"To my father? He would ask why I didn't let her take me like a man, or overpower her and show her who is truly the dominant one in the relationship," Amir scoffed. "And my mother would tell me to grin and bear it for the sake of the kingdom, like she did when she was younger."

"That's...that's awful," Sydney breathed. "And she put up with it?"

"My father threw his weight around all the time. Still does. Hell, I do it too, but I do it more for the sake of showing people they can't push me over. But he would have simply said she was trying to sully his name and carted her off somewhere she would have no influence over at best. At worst, he would have locked her away in the dungeons and continued to have his way with her late at night."

"Your family..." Sydney shook his head. "I'm so sorry you have to deal with it, Your Highness."

"Me too," Amir sighed. "But if you want to ride with me while I rant about everything wrong with what's been going on, that's your prerogative."

"I'll ride with you," Sydney said. "It sounds like you could use the company, and the excuse to be late."

Amir and Sydney saddled up and went along their old long path, like they did when they didn't want to seem like they were drawing out the ride when that's exactly what they were doing. "I'm glad you're trying, Amir, for what it's worth," Sydney said into the silent morning air.

"I am too," Amir said. "I don't want to seem like a villain to anyone, and realizing that the slaves include 'anyone' has been a real eye-opener to my behavior."

Sydney shook his head. "Shame it took what it did for you to see," he lamented.

"Agreed," Amir sighed.

"Would you want to get back together? Given the chance?" Sydney asked.

Amir thought about it. Sydney was a good friend. And a wonderful man to spend time with. But at the end of the day, Amir realized, he had screwed up that romantic relationship beyond repair, and he wasn't sure that he would want to try and repair it. "No," he eventually said. "I don't think it would ever be the same. And while that might be a good thing, I think the fact that it wouldn't live up to what it used to be would bother me. Not to mention, I could slip into old bad habits, and I don't want to risk hurting you."

"Would you risk that for someone else, though?" Sydney asked.

"Probably not," Amir said.

"But that means you would never be with someone you truly love, Amir," Sydney pointed out. "And if you love someone and deny yourself that, out of fear of what once was, that doesn't seem healthy."

"I would need to take serious strides in my own personality before I could comfortably date someone. Better?" Amir asked.

"I suppose," Sydney said. "But remember, Amir: the best thing you can do with the past is learn from it. Once you have learned, there is nothing you can do but move on."

"Yeah," Amir agreed. "I guess you're right. As always."

Sydney chuckled and Amir's heart warmed. While he and Sydney had their chance, Amir was pretty sure Sydney could be nothing more than a close friend anymore. Not only because of their past relationship, but because Amir thought about someone else in the way that made his heart flutter. And he was a little scared to admit that to himself, but it was true. He was head over heels, not with Sydney, and not with Jamila. No, he was going to try and become a better person...for Rupert.

The two got back to the stable and Amir walked inside after giving Sydney a fond goodbye. He went to the dining room, where his mother and Jamila were waiting. "Sorry, I hope I didn't make you two wait long?" Amir asked.

"No worries, Amir, we just sat down," his mother said. "Do you wish to discuss the wedding?"

"Is there anything else we _would_ discuss the day after I proposed?" Amir asked.

"I would hope not," Jamila said with a coy smile.

Amir offered her a smile in return and sat down. "Right. So I suppose we should pick a season for the wedding to be in. After all, that could dictate a lot of what we do from here on out," Amir reasoned.

"I always hoped for a winter wedding," Jamila said with a happy sigh. "Plus, I like your winter ceremonial robes. They look good on you."

"Okay, so winter," Amir said. "That gives us...about ten months to prepare? Plenty of time."

"Not that you should delay in making your plans, Amir," his mother said with a warning glance.

"Of course not, Mother," Amir said. "I'm simply saying that should there be a delay for whatever reason, we can handle it without much worry."

His mother nodded.

Jamila started talking about potential guests and Amir mostly checked out of the conversation. He didn't want to go over guest lists, and seating arrangements, and what would have a big enough venue for them to celebrate properly. Hell, he didn't want to have this wedding at all. He knew he had to, but he greatly wished he didn't.

The chefs came out with breakfast and Amir felt his stomach churn at the thought of eating. It was French toast with blueberries, what Jamila and he had always celebrated eating as children. But today, Amir barely poked at his food and took his time to eat, while Jamila and his mother continued to talk about plans.

Of course, it was right when he was chewing that Jamila asked, "What do you think, Amir?"

Amir hummed, finished his bite, and said, "Sorry, I lost track of the conversation."

"The wedding rings?" Jamila prompted. "What do you think they should be? I'm particularly fond of platinum."

"Sounds fine to me," Amir said with a smile. "Anything that makes you happy, makes me happy."

Jamila turned back to her breakfast with a smile, but his mother gave him a look that roughly equated to _I know you're lying._

Amir grimaced at her and mouthed, _Later?_

His mother shook her head sternly. _Now,_ she mouthed.

Amir cleared his throat in nervousness. "Jamila..." he said hesitantly. "I think we need to talk about what happened in my room last night."

"I agree," Jamila said. "Honestly, I was expecting you to be more than happy to sleep with me. What changed?"

Amir swallowed, glancing at his mother. "Don't look at me, Amir. I'm more than aware that you have a sex life, and I'm not expecting you to hold out until marriage like that old Western custom," she said.

"Well, when you pushed me on the bed, I wasn't...I wasn't ready," Amir said gently. "I need some time to prepare, usually. And I'd appreciate us talking about having sex before just...going right to it."

"Half the fun is the surprise," Jamila said with a little pout.

"Maybe," Amir said. He licked his lips. Swallowed again. "But still, I don't appreciate you just coming onto me without warning."

Jamila gasped. "How dare you?!" she cried. "I've been nothing but an angel to you, Amir, and _this_ is how you reward me?!"

His mother looked between them. "Is there something here I'm not aware of?" she asked.

"I've allowed him to try other girls before," Jamila scoffed. "Even when he was courting me in quiet. And I took it all, because I knew he would eventually come back to me. But come on, Amir! We're engaged, soon to be married! You don't want to have sex with me now? After all we've done, after all we've been through? You're not even the tiniest bit curious about what we are like together?"

"I know what we're like together," Amir said, frowning.

"I'm talking about the _passion,_ Amir. When we're _passionate_ for each other. When we want nothing more than to rip each other's clothes off and have sex then and there. Aren't you a little bit curious?"

Amir pinched the bridge of his nose. "I would be lying if I said I was," he said. "Honestly, Jamila, I do enjoy sex with you...but I want more out of a relationship than just stunning sex."

"Unbelievable," Jamila scoffed. She finished her breakfast, stood up, and stormed off. "I'm going to my room. I'll be living with my parents starting at the end of the week unless you come to your senses. Talk to me when you see my point."

His mother glared at him. Amir sighed. "I'm just trying to be honest, Mother."

"I know, dear, but this is one instance where you have to lie. The entire kingdom is watching you. You must make it clear to them that you are in love," his mother said. "Or you risk your father disowning you and making Jamila sole ruler."


	12. Chapter 12

The first inkling Amir got of something being wrong was that all the slaves and servants were walking on eggshells around him. Like they knew something he didn't, and they thought he knew as well. The second thing that nagged at him was when he doesn't see Rupert for the entire morning. When he finally got a knock at his chambers in the early afternoon, he turned, fully expecting to see Rupert, only to find a stocky man standing in his place. "Who are you?" Amir asked.

"I'm Garfield, Your Highness. I'm stepping in for Fitz for the next couple days," the man said, tilting his head to the side.

"Why would you step in for Fitz? Fitz is fine, isn't he?" Amir asked.

The man looked shocked. "You didn't hear?" he asked.

"Hear what?" Amir asked.

"Fitz and a few other servants have been put into quarantine, Your Highness. Some sort of bug going around that Their Majesties wanted to nip in the bud. Fitz won't be out for another week or so."

"What?!" Amir shouted. He had been trying to keep that bug from reaching Rupert! He specifically called up Rupert to stay most of the day so he'd be away from those who were getting sick! And then _this_ happens? "That's ridiculous!"

"Protocol is protocol, Your Highness," the man said, clearly uncomfortable with the amount of rage Amir was showing. "I'm sorry."

Amir sighed, before his brain hatched the vague idea of a plan. "Get me some of your spare clothes," Amir instructed.

Garfield blinked once, twice. "I'm sorry?" he asked.

"Your clothes, quickly now!" Amir said impatiently.

The man scurried out of the room and came back with dress robes for a servant. "It ain't much, Your Highness. Why would you...?"

Amir tuned the man out as he held the clothes up to his frame. It would be a bit of a squeeze, but he could fit into them. He took off his own robes and changed quickly, turning back to the man who was now bright red in the face. "What do the servants who check on the slaves wear?" Amir asked.

"Uh...they're using head coverings wrapped around their mouths and noses for protection...what are you doing?" Garfield asked.

"I'm telling Fitz _exactly_ what I think about him getting sick," Amir said sarcastically.

"D'you think it's a good idea to chew him out, Your Highness? I mean, he is, uh...he is sick after all."

"I'll only be a minute," Amir said, going to his closet and pulling out an old, disused head covering he had. "Not one word of this to anyone, understood? I don't want to end up in quarantine myself."

"Yessir," the man said, gulping and bobbing his head up and down like a duck hunting for fish.

Amir strode out of the room and made sure to adjust his posture as he walked. He drew in his shoulders and tried not to move too fast or too slow, looking like a nondescript servant. He walked to the wing of the palace where all the sick stayed, and then went to the basement, where the slaves were kept. He nodded to the others passing in the hallway, and walked into the room, looking around. Fitz had his own cot in the back, and Amir walked over. "Rupert?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

Rupert turned to him with a whimper, and Amir winced in sympathy when he saw Rupert's full state. His face was flushed in the cheeks and pale everywhere else, his skin looked clammy, and he was shivering. He had definitely gotten the brunt of the bug going around. "Amir?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. "You're not supposed to be down here."

Amir got on his knees next to Rupert's bedside and dunked a rag in cool water, placing it across Rupert's forehead. "Well, then. Don't tell anyone," Amir whispered back with a wink.

Rupert weakly laughed and said. "I don't believe you. This is going above and beyond, Your Highness, I don't deserve this."

"Well, I'm doing it anyway, so you'd better get used to it," Amir murmured. He put his hand in Rupert's and nearly jumped when he felt how clammy Rupert's hand was. "Gods, Rupert, you don't look so hot," he mumbled.

"Feel like death," Rupert muttered back. "Puked last night, made a scene in the hallway. I thought you would hear about it right away."

"No one told me until twenty minutes ago," Amir murmured. "Probably because my mother thought I'd come and see you."

"And your first reaction is to...to come and see me?" Rupert asked. "When you found out I was sick?"

"Of course. I care about you, Rupert. Always have."

Rupert frowned, like that sentence didn't quite make sense to him. "Not always."

"Okay, not always," Amir conceded, eyes crinkling from his smile behind the covering. "But I do care about you quite a bit."

Rupert coughed, and continued to cough until Amir helped him sit up. When Rupert could breathe again, Amir laid him back down and replaced the cold cloth. "Don't die on me, Rupert, that's an order," Amir teased.

"Not sure I can't guarantee following that," Rupert rasped.

For some reason, that struck fear deep into Amir's heart, and he frowned. "No. I'm serious, Rupert. I don't want you to die."

"Go," Rupert said, deflecting. "Don't want you to get sick."

"If I get sick, I get sick. We've been hanging out every day for the past week. Something tells me that one more day isn't going to make a difference," Amir said.

"One day can make _all_ the difference," Rupert said stubbornly.

"Okay, yeah, but shut up, I'm trying to be romantic here," Amir lightly joked.

Rupert quieted, and Amir thought he might have fallen asleep before he asked, "Romantic?"

"I mean, a little," Amir said.

A dark look passed across Rupert's face. "Amir...don't do that to me. Not when I'm sick. Please."

"What? I'm tired of denying it. I like you, Rupert. A lot."

"Amir...no," Rupert rasped. "You can't. It can never work."

"We can _make_ it work, if we try," Amir said, grabbing Rupert's hand with both of his. "Please, Rupert. You don't have to answer now, but I'd like to try."

"Amir, we can't," Rupert insisted. "We'd both be dead."

"Rupert, come on..." Amir said, his heart feeling like it was being squeezed too tight and it was starting to crack.

"No. I value my life and yours too much, Amir. We can't," Rupert insisted.

Amir shook his head, tears coming to his eyes. The cracks in his heart were growing under the strain. "Jamila knows I fuck around. She doesn't care. All I have to do is say it's for stress relief and we can have a relationship alone, whenever she's not around."

"She'll never not be around," Rupert pointed out. "And you know I'm right."

Shattered. "Rupert, please," Amir breathed.

"Amir. Even if I like you. Even if you're a good friend. I couldn't be with you. Not like that. And we both know that me being on the side would never be enough," Rupert said. "I'm saying this for both of us. We can't do it."

"But..." Amir felt like a lost child, trying to find some sort of light in the darkness. "I love you."

"Amir..." Rupert swallowed. "You can't."

Amir scowled. "You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do."

"In this case, I can," Rupert said. "I'm saying no. Even _if_ I still felt that attraction, you hurt me. You have the chance to hurt me again. You need to do some serious growth before I could even hope to date you, and that growth won't happen while you're here. With your father, with Jamila, with everyone around you telling you one thing, sooner or later you're going to believe it. And honey...I don't want to feel that pain when you slip back into old habits."

"I'll work hard. I'll make you proud of me, Rupert. I'll do everything you ask," Amir begged.

"Everything I ask?" Rupert asked.

"Yes, honey. I'll do everything," Amir promised.

"Then let me go, Amir," Rupert said. "Let the idea of us, together, lie. It's not fair to either of us. And I don't want you getting more and more hurt while we just continue to dance around each other."

Amir scowled. "Come on, Rupert. Don't be like that."

Rupert shook his head weakly. "Amir...please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"Too late," Amir snapped. "You're breaking my heart. I want us to have a chance. To be together. I want it bad enough to...to..."

"To what?" Rupert challenged. "I said no, Amir. Are you going to go back on your word?"

Amir felt like he had been slapped. It was a wake-up call, and not a pleasant one. "No," he said softly. "No, I don't want to go back on my word, so I won't. But I wish you'd say yes."

"I wish I was in a position where I could," Rupert said simply. "But I'm not. And we both know this is the safer option. And I'm not just saying the growth thing to get you off my back, Amir. Were my mother still here, she would—" Rupert got cut off by a loud coughing fit, before he collapsed on the bed again. "—She would absolutely keep me away from you, because you still have much to learn, and much to work through. You know you have anger issues? And you micro-manage? Those aren't great relationship traits, Amir. I worry that we wouldn't work out at all, and my fears aren't exactly unfounded."

"Rupert...don't do this to me," Amir begged. "I want to be better. Don't dismiss me off the bat. You could teach me to be better, couldn't you?"

"I could try," Rupert agreed. "But you have to understand. For every step you take forward, Jamila will drag you two steps back. It's not fair to anyone, least of all me, to try and teach you how to have respect for other human beings while being in a relationship with you. It would be too hard on me, too difficult for you. I'm trying to make sure that we don't get hurt."

"I hate this," Amir huffed.

"I know," Rupert said.

"If things were even a little different, know that I would date you in a heartbeat," Amir said.

Rupert gave another weak smile. "I know," he said. "That's why I'm putting my foot down. And I don't want you bringing this up every time we talk, okay?" Rupert asked. "It's hard enough for me to enjoy being around you when you're not constantly pushing a relationship. That's no way to live. I want to be able to be myself around you, without worrying about you talking about dating every chance we get."

"Okay," Amir sighed reluctantly. "I will still apologize incessantly for everything I've done to you."

Rupert smiled bitterly. "You know, you haven't even touched the tip of the iceberg of things you've done to me in the name of discipline. You could start apologizing for those."

"I really should, shouldn't I?" Amir laughed awkwardly. "I need to make a list."

"You do," Rupert said. "I might just help you make it."

"I would appreciate that," Amir said, before sneezing himself.

"Amir, you need to go, before you get sick," Rupert insisted.

Amir shook his head. "I don't want to go anywhere."

"Yeah, I know, but people will be looking for you, and you'll be questioned if you catch what I have," Rupert said. "Go. I don't mind."

Amir sighed. "Fine. But know that I'll come back to see you every chance I get."

"You can't keep doing this to me, Amir, you're going to make yourself sick," Rupert protested.

"So be it," Amir said. "This is the best place for me to learn how to be a decent human being to you."

"The best place for that would be the rebellion," Rupert weakly joked. "Because there, everyone is equal, no matter where they're from. But I see your point. You have to keep the face covering on when you come down here, though."

"Of course," Amir said softly. He squeezed Rupert's hand. "See you soon, Rupert."

"See you soon," Rupert said, before coughing profusely. With one last attempt to help Rupert sit up and then lower him on the bed, Amir left the room.


	13. Chapter 13

Amir went back to his room after training with his father, to find Jamila waiting there for him. "Hey, Jamila," he sighed, stripping his dirty sparring shirt off and heading to the closet. "What's up?"

"I heard some of the servants gossiping, saying that you were talking to one of the slaves who was sick," Jamila said.

"Since when do you take stock in gossip?" Amir asked, putting on a fresh top and turning to Jamila, crossing his arms.

"They also said you called your slave a name that wasn't his," Jamila said, narrowing her eyes. "You called Fitz 'Rupert.'"

"And this is still all gossip and hearsay, Jamila," Amir said, holding his hands out. "Are you expecting something you say to shock or appall me?"

"Rupert is a name reserved for Western Royalty," Jamila said.

Amir internally cursed Jamila for being so smart. "Jamila, this is still all rumors. What do you want me to say?"

"Admit to housing Western Royalty as your slave!" Jamila accused.

"I won't, Jamila. Because that would be a lie," Amir said smoothly. "Fitz admitted that his mother called him something else when he was young. I asked what it was and he told me it was Rupert. Maybe he fancied himself being a prince when he was younger, maybe he had a connection to the lost Queen, I don't know. I called him by that in my chambers once. Because he asked me to."

"When you were trying to make out with him?" Jamila questioned.

"I wasn't trying to make out with him," Amir sighed. He shook his head. "Honestly, Jamila, what do you want me to say? The servants love turning anything into gossip. I didn't go to the sick wing."

"Your stand-in said that you wanted his spare clothes," Jamila said. "Why else would you want them?"

"You know what my guess is, Jamila? I'm guessing he heard a rumor about someone seeing Fitz in the sick wing, and my stand-in servant jumped on the bandwagon for attention. I sincerely doubt anything more came of it."

Jamila stared at Amir blankly, her arms crossed and her hip cocked. "I don't believe you," she said finally.

"You don't have to believe me," Amir sighed. "That's your choice, but I didn't do anything."

Jamila turned red. "Oh really," she said. "Then where were you when I came looking for you, while everyone claims you were visiting your slave?"

"When do they say I was visiting him?" Amir asked.

"Mid-afternoon yesterday," Jamila said.

"I believe I was studying," Amir said. "I took a book and went to a window and just sat there, reading for a while. I was getting tired of always studying in the library."

"I call bullshit," Jamila hissed. "I searched high and low for you, Amir, and you were nowhere to be found! I checked everywhere except where the slaves congregate!"

Amir squinted at Jamila. "You promise not to tell anyone where I was?" he asked.

Jamila scoffed.

"I need you to promise," Amir insisted.

"On my honor," Jamila said reluctantly.

"I went to the slaves' laundry," Amir said. "I wanted to steal some of the...intimates."

Jamila stared at him for a couple moments, not saying anything. Then, she smirked. "You realize your father would have conniptions if he heard about this."

"Which is why I asked you to promise to keep quiet," Amir pointed out. "And I'm holding you to that promise."

"Fine, fine, fine," Jamila sighed. "I won't tell your father. I _will_ tease you about it, though."

"Whatever," Amir sighed, thankful that his apparent lie had worked. "Now. Why are you here?"

"We're going ring shopping," Jamila said. "We need to find wedding bands."

"Right," Amir said, feeling his brain shut down and go onto autopilot. "Wedding bands. Platinum, right?"

"You remembered!" Jamila said, pleased. "I knew you could!"

Amir internally rolled his eyes and let himself be dragged to the foyer where his mother was waiting for them. They got sandals on and walked outside, heading to the jewelers, surrounded by guards for surveilance. Jamila held her hand in Amir's and hummed cheerily, which Amir knew was at least partially, if not entirely, an act. Jamila was pissed at him for continuing to have relations with people she didn't approve of. He wondered idly what would happen if he had relations with another nobleman, or noblewoman. Would she get up in arms over that, claiming that she should be the only one he was concerned for? Since they were getting married now, probably. She said whatever she wanted to get to the crown, and now that it was hers, she could take it all back the second she wanted. Because she knew that Amir would bend over to her.

...Well. He would bend over to her in _most_ cases. Maybe in this one he didn't want to. Maybe he wanted to continue seeing Rupert. Maybe he wanted to get closer to someone he had affections for, was that a crime? In Jamila's world? Yes. But in Amir's? He never wanted to be married to Jamila. And he would do as he pleased. No one could stop him.

They got to the jewelers, who were expecting them, and they were immediately shown the different platinum options they had. Amir and Jamila looked them over. Jamila liked the braided options, but Amir cringed inwardly at the price. It was expensive, even for royalty. He might be able to haggle down, or bribe them to accept a lower price through fewer inspections, but it was still going to be a hefty fee. Still, he said, "Whatever you want, dear," and she chose the bands.

Amir went into the back to talk to the jeweler about pricing. "I'll allow fewer inspections on your gems if you take the price down twenty percent," he said in a low voice.

"Deal," the jeweler said.

They shook hands and the jeweler promised that the rings would be made from their finest platinum in time for the wedding when he walked Amir back out. Jamila jumped up and down and clapped. She seemed more than pleased that the two of them were going to be married, and she got her first choice of jewelry.

They walked back to the palace, and all thoughts of Amir seeing Rupert seemed to be dismissed from Jamila's mind. There was some free time before dinner, so the two of them went to Amir's room. Jamila kissed Amir slow and sensual, and Amir allowed it. She pulled back from Amir and said, "Kissing you is like kissing a dead fish, lover boy, put some energy into it!

Amir did so, but the entire time, he was imagining Rupert. He ignored Jamila's breasts in favor of cupping her ass, pretending it was Rupert's. He kept his eyes closed so he couldn't see Jamila's silhouette in the early evening light. He kissed and kissed and left a trail down his...no, her, jawline. He sucked a hickey on her neck and she moaned, nothing at all like Rupert. But still, Amir wasn't going to let this opportunity go. If he could convince Jamila that he loved her, and her alone, she might let her grip on him loosen a little. He might have more time to see Rupert. And he would do anything, _anything,_ for that.

He moved his hands to her shoulder blades and felt at her robes. "Any chance you'd be willing to take those off?" he whispered huskily into her ear.

Jamila gave him a smirk and slowly slid the robed down her arms. Amir felt at the skin, kissing every inch he could. He couldn't deny that Jamila's golden tone was entirely unlike Rupert's, but he was willing to ignore it for now. He'd make it up to Rupert later if he was asked to, or even if he wasn't. He'd get Rupert that book on dragons he had been eyeing as an apology.

Jamila and Amir would up entangled on the bed, Jamila laughing and looking at Amir with deep lust in her eyes. "And here I thought you didn't love me," she murmured, before diving in for a kiss.

Amir kissed her back, longing for touch, longing for someone to love the surest way he knew how to love someone. Longing for Rupert. But he wasn't going to focus on that. No, he was instead going to focus on Jamila. Jamila's skin, Jamila's breasts, her ass. The way she slid her hands over his body searching for more skin. The way she hungrily undid his robes. He kissed her, using his hands to pull down her robes further. She arched her hips into his body, and he ground onto her. They broke apart for a moment, looking at each other. "Still not in the mood?" she teased.

"Come off it and get in my pants," Amir snapped.

Jamila tutted. "Touchy," she teased, but did as told. Amir's pants came off and his erection was on full display in moments. Jamila sat on top of it and Amir put his hands on her thighs, squeezing tight and slowly guiding her down on top of him. It wasn't a position he had ever chosen with Rupert, but he could make do with his imagination. Jamila's slick could instead be lube. Her pussy, his ass. And as he closed his eyes in bliss, he could see Rupert in his head as clear as day. He would have his hands behind his back, maybe have his fingernails done in red polish. Amir liked the thought of red nails on Rupert's pale fingers. He would hold his hands behind his back, while leather black cuffs were over his wrists.

Amir bucked his hips up into Jamila and she gasped, looking down at him with a smirk. "Naughty man," she teased, winking at him.

Paying her only enough mind to stick his tongue out at her, Amir went back to the fantasy. A black miniskirt that just barely covered Rupert's ass, and distressed fishnet stockings that Amir would adore ripping off Rupert's frame. He was aching, desperate for release. Jamila kept going slow and steady on top of him, not nearly fast enough to give him the friction he wanted. "Please...faster..." he panted.

"Is that an order?" Jamila asked, a coy smile on her face.

"Do I need to make it one?" Amir asked.

"Not really," Jamila said, speeding up the pace as she fingered her own clit and tensed.

The extra friction was wonderful, and Amir's fingers bit into Jamila's thighs as he was fully entrenched in his fantasy. Jamila moved faster, faster, tensing above him as her whole body shook while she came. The tenseness in her pussy just enough to resemble Rupert's ass, and as Amir came soon after, he cried out the one name he was never, ever, supposed to say around Jamila.

He called out for Rupert.

Amir didn't even realize what had happened for a moment after he had came. He slipped out of Jamila, fully lax on the bed. Then, his words hit him and he bolted upright, red as a tomato. Compared to Jamila's face, he could have been as pale as Rupert. "I knew it," she spat. "I _knew_ that you were getting it on with a slave! How could you?! I thought you loved me!"

"You only ever used me for the crown! How could I love someone who was using me?!" Amir snapped back.

Jamila sputtered in anger, and Amir knew that was the last thing he should have said when she slipped on her robes and spat, "I'm telling your father."

"No!" Amir exclaimed, rushing after her. He grabbed her arm in the hallway and she screamed, "Let go of me!"

Guards rushed over and pulled him off of her. Jamila fed them some sob story about how Amir was forcing himself on her for the past few months. Amir denied it all, but the guards looked like they believed her. They forced him back to his room and she gave a victorious smirk behind their backs. "Oh, by the way, _honey,"_ she said, voice dripping sarcasm. "My period? Hasn't happened the past two months. Who have I slept with in that time?!"

Only Amir. Amir turned red and fought twice as hard against the guards, but they forced him into his room and barricaded the door. Amir was red in the face but shaky all over. Jamila was no doubt going to his father with this.

He was. _So_ screwed.


	14. Chapter 14

Amir had been pacing his chambers restlessly all night, and it was around dawn when he finally passed out from exhaustion. His door had been guarded the entire night, and he was not permitted to leave, even for dinner. He was woken up by his door slamming open at midmorning and his father barging in and dragging Amir out by the arm. Amir knew better than to question what his father was doing, so he kept his mouth shut and allowed himself to be dragged through the hallways. When they got to the balcony over the ballroom, Amir could see that every nobleman in the country was standing there, watching them. And Amir was still only half-dressed in pajamas. His father shoved him forward to the steps, and Amir, unable to catch himself, tumbled down the stairs, feeling every inch of his body scream in pain. He tried to stand up, only to have a foot shoved into his back, knocking the wind out of him. "It appears that my son has found himself a little hobby," his father announced to the room. "He thinks that it's okay to be in love with a slave."

Murmuring went up around the room and Amir could only miserably watch what was happening. Everyone was looking at him with revulsion and disgust. His mother was in the front of the crowd, silently crying.

"Well, I thought I had taught him that the only way for one to be in love with a slave is to be a slave yourself. Apparently, I was wrong. But I'll teach him now. If he wants to be in love with a slave, he'll be treated like a slave. And he's been misbehaving," his father spat.

Amir had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when his father spoke above him. He was roughly yanked to his feet and shoved forward. Amir turned to find his father standing there with his favorite flogger, the one that hurt slaves the most. And his father was never gentle just because the flogger did more damage. Amir paled.

"Count the strokes, boy," his father said.

Amir turned his face away just in time, the blow landing on his shoulder and back. He cried out, but didn't dare say "one."

His father snarled, and struck him again. "Count the strokes!"

Still, Amir stayed silent. His father growled, hitting him again. "Boy, when I tell you to do something, you do it! Now count!"

"No," Amir said, glaring at his father.

"No?" his father laughed incredulously. "You don't get to say no to me, boy!"

"Who the fuck cares?" Amir spat. "Did Jamila even tell you who I fell in love with? Or did she just come crying to you, saying that there was a slave I had my eyes on? Huh? Which was it?! Did she give a name?!"

His father glared at him, which was all the answer Amir needed. He laughed. "Wow. She can't even remember the name of the slave I wanted, she sure is as dumb as a bag of rocks when she wants to be!"

The resulting screech from the crowd made Amir turn with a shit-eating grin. "You got what you wanted, honey, congratulations! You're officially a piece of shit!"

He got hit with the flogger again and Amir cried out. He could feel the blood dripping down his back, but he refused to count. He grinned at the crowd. "I don't suppose anyone here _objects_ to the way the former Crown Prince is being treated? Because, let's be honest, my father _definitely_ publicly disowned me for this."

He got hit again and Amir just started to laugh hysterically. "You know what? I don't care though! My father can do what he wants! I will love who I love!"

"Tell the whole crowd the filthy slut you want!" his father exclaimed. "Tell them what whore you've gotten yourself! What's her name?"

Amir turned to his father, a fire in his eyes. He bared his teeth in a mockery of a grin and exclaimed, _"His_ name is Rupert!" before charging his father.

His father barely had time to react before Amir was on top of him. He wrestled the flogger out of his father's hands and swung it directly into his father's face. His father roared in pain and charged at Amir, and the two went back and forth, back and forth with the flogger.

Amir's mother was crying out, begging him to stop. The crowd was rioting, calling for his bloodshed. But Amir would be damned if he went down without a fight. He punched his father in the eye, kicked him in the liver, continued fighting as hard as he could, and fighting dirty.

His father smacked him around a little at first, but when it became clear that Amir wasn't stopping, his father grabbed Amir by the hair, flipped him onto the ground, and held a dagger under Amir's chin to keep him from getting up. Amir was panting, staring defiantly at his father, but not daring to move when he was so close to death. His father grabbed the flogger from the floor and tossed it to the guards. "Looks like this slave needs a little _training,"_ his father spat. He moved the dagger to Amir's exposed chest, and left a light scratch on it. Amir hissed, but said nothing.

"Nothing to say for yourself, boy?" his father taunted.

"Go to hell," Amir spat at him.

The next cut was twice as deep, and started to bleed heavily. Amir cried out in pain. His father carved into his body, making marks in the most painful places he could without killing Amir. He knew he was being tortured. He knew he would incur his father's wrath shortly. He just didn't know how long it would take before he died.

"Wait!" a familiar voice cried, as someone rushed into the room.

Amir panicked as he saw Rupert get in between his father and himself. "It's me! It's me who you're after! My name is Rupert, not Fitz! I am the lost prince of the West! You can do whatever you want to me, but please, leave Amir alone! He didn't do anything!"

His father stared Rupert down. "You are Rupert?" his father said skeptically.

"My mother is Lavinia, Queen of the West. My father was Richard, King of the West, the general of the army who you destroyed. You enslaved my people. I am the one who forced Amir to have relations with me. I have been finding all the information I could on him for blackmail. And if he denied me anything I asked, I threatened to go to you with the information I had found."

"Oh? And what information could possibly be used against him?" his father spat.

Rupert swallowed, and glanced at Amir. Amir just shook his head. "I can take it," he said softly. "Don't do this."

"What information?" his father pressed.

"He fell in love with a stable boy," Rupert said.

The crowd went up in shocked murmurs.

"I won't tell you the name, I hardly think it matters to you," Rupert said. Amir was shocked when Rupert's voice cracked. "Don't hurt him. It's me you're after. You've shown him how you felt. Don't hurt him anymore. I will take the punishment instead."

There was silence in the hall for far too long. Distantly, Amir could hear a grandfather clock chime ten times. Then, his father backhanded Rupert, and Rupert was sent sprawling on top of Amir. Amir gasped, eyes squeezed shut tight as he tried to breathe.

Guards came over and pulled Amir away, tying him up and holding him upright. "No. No! Rupert!" Amir cried, struggling against his bonds. "No! Rupert!"

Rupert was held up by the king, before one of the guards passed him the flogger and his father sneered, "Count the strokes for me."

The flogger whistled through the air and landed on Rupert's chest. Rupert managed a strangled, "One."

Another hit. Rupert cried out. "Two."

Another. "Three."

Another. "Four."

Amir struggled against his bindings harder the more he saw Rupert get hurt, but it was no use. His father did thirty nine strokes all over Rupert's chest. Rupert was wobbly and his eyes were glazed over and distant. The flogger was dripping blood. Amir's father flipped Rupert around and started on his back. Amir was sobbing, begging his father to stop, and all the while, Rupert monotonously counted.

When thirty nine had been delivered to Rupert's back, Amir was shoved forward, hands still tied behind his back. He ran over to Rupert, who was whimpering in a ball on the ground, and knelt beside him. "Rupert, oh my gods, are you okay? Rupert?! Rupert, please, _please,_ say something!"

"Let this be a lesson to all of you!" his father exclaimed. "If you betray the crown in any way, you will be punished! Jamila, the bearer of my former child's own offspring, shall be next in line for the throne. The boy you see in front of you is no longer my son. You may do to him as you wish. As for the slave?" His father scoffed, and made eye contact with Amir as he said, "You are free to kill him."

"No!" Amir exclaimed. His father left the floor by the stairs and stood at the top of the balcony as the nobility became a mob. Amir crouched over Rupert, trying to provide as much protection as he could, but with his hands tied behind his back, he couldn't fend off anyone.

He was pulled, kicked, punched, and prodded by the mob. At some point he blacked out for a few seconds, and when he came to, Rupert was no longer under him and he was in the middle of the room. "Rupert?! Rupert!" Amir called.

He got no response except for the young children kicking him in the ribs.

"Rupert!" He cried out, his heart breaking and his stomach in knots. Rupert had to be okay, he had to be! "Rupert, please! Say something!"

He got no response. All the weaker or younger nobility were still attacking him, while the stronger men were at the front, no doubt attacking Rupert. Amir was crying, snot and tears and blood all mixing down his face as he desperately tried to stand.

When the nobility got bored of him and moved away, his mother walked up, stony-faced. "Mother—" he tried to say, only for her to put a finger to her lips.

She helped him stand and went through one of the servant's tunnels, escorting Amir off the premises. "I'm so sorry this happened to you, my dear. If you know what's good for you, you will not return to the palace. Understand? If your father sees you again, he will not hesitate to kill you."

"Mother—Rupert, please—"

"I cannot save him, Amir, I am sorry," his mother said. She took him to the side exit and shoved him into the street. "This is all I can do for you. Don't come back, if you value your life."

Amir staggered away, but it was soon revealed to him that more than just the nobility knew about his failure. Everyone in the streets surrounded him, kicking and punching harder than the nobility had. They were up in arms, demanding to know where he was for them, why he had chosen a slave over the Eastern people. And honestly, Amir didn't have a good answer for them. He was shoved to the ground and he let it happen, people kicking him all over, and stomping on all his extremities. His vision was swimming, spots dancing all across it. The last thing he saw was more people approaching, shouting, and he hoped that he would be unconscious when death arrived, so that at least it might be marginally less painful.

He weakly tried to stand in some last strand of self-preservation, but he was merely kicked to the ground again and he didn't dare move after that. He was tossed onto the hard bed of a wooden cart, and as unconsciousness surrounded him, he fell into a deep blackness.


	15. Chapter 15

Amir came to, which in and of itself was a surprise. His entire body ached and screamed as he struggled to open his eyes. When he managed it, he could see a stone ceiling. He turned his head to the side and found Lavinia sitting at a table with a lantern lighting up the space, stirring something in a tea cup. She put the spoon down, looking at him as she drank from her cup. Set the cup down. Finally, she spoke. "My son is too good for you."

"No kidding?" Amir said. "Am I dead?"

"No, this isn't hell. Well, for me it's not. For a boy like you, it might be," Lavinia said, lip curling up in distaste. "You're so used to a cushioned life, you won't like it for a while here."

"You're...letting me live...wherever this is?" Amir asked in disbelief.

"Amir, everyone in the kingdom heard about what your father did to you. Like it or not, you're an inspiration to slaves everywhere, to fight back and resist the king."

Amir frowned. "Why me?"

Lavinia sighed. "They think that you standing up against your father was brave."

"You disagree?" Amir asked.

"I think it was foolhardy, reckless, and a death wish," Lavinia said primly.

Amir noticed she was sitting up straight, her gaze sharp and shrewd. He could see her as the royalty she was once upon a time. "I just didn't want him to get the best of me," he said. "I've had to listen to him, no matter what, for the entirety of my life. And I, for one, was tired of bowing down to his every whim. And for what, because I loved someone he didn't approve of? It's not fair!"

 _"Life_ isn't fair, Your Highness," Lavinia informed him.

"Well, maybe it _should_ be, Your Majesty," Amir snapped back.

Lavinia grew quiet and a distant look appeared in her eye. "How very true," she murmured. "Life _should_ be fair."

"We should make it such," Amir said.

"We?" Lavinia laughed. "You have no place in this war, Amir. I will let you stay here, and you can inspire those around us to fight, but this is not your battle."

"It became my battle the day my father enslaved your nation and I realized that was wrong. I have been complicit in my father's plans far too long. I want to fight back," Amir said firmly.

Lavinia nodded. "Very well. If that is what you wish, we can work together. I don't expect you to last very long."

Amir ignored the jab in favor of sitting up and staring square at Lavinia. "So what do I need to do?"

"Well, first, I imagine you need to rest up and heal well," Lavinia said, nodding to his chest. "Those wounds were very nearly infected and you could have been killed."

Amir swallowed. "That close to death, was I?"

"Closer," Lavinia said. "It was by the grace of a local slave to the apothecary that we smuggled medicine to you."

"How long have I been asleep?" Amir asked, frowning.

Lavinia hummed. "Time seems so relative in the underground here, but I would say that it has been at least three days."

"Three days?!" Amir asked, leaping to his feet before nearly face-planting into the ground. Only Lavinia rushing over and pushing him back down on the bed prevented it. "Is Rupert here? Is he okay?!"

Lavinia looked pained. "We don't know. He's certainly not here, if he is even still alive."

Amir felt all the blood drain from his face. "Are you certain?" he asked.

Lavinia cast her eyes down and nodded. "My son could be dead. You were the only person we found in the streets, at least."

"No...no!" Amir shook his head furiously, nearly toppling over again. "No, he _has_ to be okay! He _has_ to be!"

Lavinia regarded him with something between pity and fury. "How do you think _I_ feel?!" she snapped. "I'm his mother! And I couldn't keep him safe from you and your people!"

"My people?! What is that supposed to mean?! Most people in this country object to having slaves around, I'll have you know!" Amir growled.

"And yet no one listens to them and you end up with more and more people under your thumb to do with as you please! Don't think that I don't know what you did to my son!"

"I know!" Amir exclaimed, voice cracking. "I know what I did, and I want to make up for it! I can't do that if Rupert's dead! He has to be alive!"

"What, so that you can stroke your own ego and tell yourself what a good person you are for forcing my son to forgive you? Oh yes, that sounds _so_ reasonable! So kind!" Lavinia exclaimed.

"I _never_ force him to forgive me!" Amir bellowed, surging to his feet and swaying only a little.

The room was silent, Lavinia red in the face but not saying anything.

Amir took in a shaky breath. "I've realized that's wrong. Everything I did to him was wrong. I wanted a life with him, a future. Because I do love him. He told me no. And while I respected his decision, I held out hope that maybe one day, things could change for the better when I was King. Maybe..." Amir felt tears slip down his cheeks. "Maybe I could have sent everyone back to the West and you could have your lives back."

"The West has been poisoned by your father. Many have tried to live there, poor Easterners trying to make a living off of growing the sorts of crops the West used to have. The ground can only make a fraction of what it used to. Certainly not enough to sustain a whole kingdom," Lavinia informed him. "Only the Midlands are habitable, now. I know most of the slaves would be willing to try and live there; the people who used to died out long ago. But even to do that, we must first free the people from their bonds here."

Amir could only feel sorrow, the pain of Rupert no longer being there to help him a hollow ache in his chest. "What do you need me to do?" Amir asked.

Lavinia looked down her nose at him. "This isn't your fight," she repeated.

"My father made it my fight when he hurt the person I love," Amir said firmly. "This can't be the only place I'm needed. I can go elsewhere, rally the people, and make everyone slowly make their way to the Midlands. I can train them to fight, so that we have an army to defend against my father when he tries to get everyone back."

Lavinia sighed. "You truly aren't going to let this lie, are you?" she asked.

Amir shook his head. "It's the least I can do. To honor Rupert, and to fight for justice," Amir explained.

Lavinia sighed. "Then come with me," she said. "There are some people you need to meet."

Amir followed Lavinia through the halls, stumbling every so often. No one in the hallways offered to help him, not even Lavinia. Most simply glared at him. Amir was thankful that at least Lavinia slowed down when he showed that he was struggling to keep up.

They made their way to another room, which Amir wrinkled his nose at the smell of. "What's that smell?" he asked.

"The underground passages we use are abandoned parts of the sewers," Lavinia informed him. "It's the only effective place to hide in the city, other than in plain sight, of course."

"Of course, considering how high profile this one is, we can't exactly hide him," a woman said, tilting her head down at Amir.

"Precisely why he's sleeping down here, Joan," Lavinia said.

Joan looked somewhat smug as she asked, "Does His Highness not _like_ his new quarters? I'm sure the streets would take him in if not."

"It's fine, I'll get used to it," Amir said. He grabbed at his side as he sucked in a breath and groaned. "Is there anywhere I might be able to sit, though?"

Another woman came over to him and guided him into a chair. She had marks on her face from a flogger, and he dimly recognized her. "You were at my eighteenth birthday," he said.

"Yes," she replied. "I'm the one you struck across the face for spilling champagne."

"Why are you helping me, then?" Amir asked.

"Because unlike you, I think that people are deserving of forgiveness and second chances," she said with a melancholy smile.

"You're too kind, Cecily," Joan said.

"Ah, but that's why no one suspects me!" Cecily replied, returning to Joan's side to look over what Joan was doing.

"How's your progress, Joan?" Lavinia asked.

"Fairly good, Your Majesty. The city's sewers have all been mapped out, and we are spreading into the countryside quickly. Most slaves there are all too eager to join the rebellion, as their keepers have been crueler to them and leave them in worse conditions than we've experienced."

Lavinia looked at the map Joan was drawing, and huffed. "I think that His Highness would be far more effective in the countryside than the city, don't you?" she asked.

"Quite," Joan said with a smirk. "He might truly learn the meaning of war while he's there."

Amir cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'm still here," he said. "And for the record, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to help bring justice to your people."

"You just want to get even with your father," Joan sneered. "War is not the place for that."

"Not true," Amir shot back. "I want to show my father he was wrong, yes, but I want to help finish what Rupert started. I will fight in his honor, and no one can stop me from making sure that no one is left behind ever again."

"There will be pain in doing this," Joan warned him. "You cannot go in as a slave, you'll have to help steal away the slaves in the night. You will be attacked, chased by dogs, spat at with curses. There are rumors of magic-wielders in the country side who know how to kill you with a single touch. You would risk all of that, just to fight in the name of your lost friend?"

"What can I say?" Amir asked, tilting his chin up in challenge. "I just don't do anything by halves."

"No kidding," Joan said drily. "Once you heal up completely, we'll get you out to the countryside. There, the others can train you how to cart the slaves away back here. They will get their old identities as Westerners back, or get new ones if they were born in chains. But I don't think you would be very good at forging documents for them."

"I can show you the updated measures most people are taking to ensure that the people they're interacting with aren't slaves," Amir said. "And I can help you create identities from the Hinterlands, as they've been updating their protective measures in accordance with the East. Once that's done and I've been healed up, I'd be more than happy to help you fight in the countryside."

Joan and Cecily looked at Lavinia. "Maybe the stable boy did make a good call bringing in the prince," Joan said with a smile.

"Sydney brought me here?" Amir asked in shock.

"That he did," Lavinia said. "He thought you could be of some use to us. Turns out he was right. Which was more than a little surprising, considering the circumstances."

Amir felt his heart go out to Sydney in a silent thank-you. "I'll make you all proud," he vowed to them. "I promise. You ask me to jump, I'll say how high and keep jumping until I reach it. I won't let you down."

"We shall see," Lavinia said simply. "Come with me, and we'll show you where you can start helping us."

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all comments appreciated.


End file.
